I Don't Live, iPhone

I can’t feel you

There is  screen in the way


I don’t know the faces you make

Only the emojis you use


I don’t know your tone

Just the hashtags you choose


Your handwriting, I wouldn’t recognize

I know your profile picture, not the color of your eyes


The sunset and sunrise are foreign to me

The only light source I know is the glow of my screen


I need airbrushed scenery because reality is too obscene

If I’m mourning death, it’s my battery


I’m up on my phone and pissed I can’t sleep

But little do I know the blue hue of the screen

Tricks my brain to think

I’m awake


But no one posted about that today

I copy, paste, and regurgitate

Fastfood information

with no real comprehension


With a window to the world in the palm of my hand

I can’t see past my own reflection


A selfie with the caption “YOLO”

I am the iphone generation


I have no soul or substance,

only screen glazed eyes and a wifi connection


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741