Mon, 03/02/2015 - 11:15 -- Zakey93


You're a feind, and the substance always has the loudest voice.
Bound by addiction, leaving you with no choice.

Always calling for you ,with its charm so sweet.
You got comments with Emojis, likes and retweets.

Oh you thought I meant drugs?

Nah I'm talking bout your phone.
Busy staring at ya time line every where you roam.

Social media will pimp you like a trick on the scene.
Double tapped by mad strangers as they un-zip their jeans.
I mean scroll up they're screens.

We still taking bout phones.
I hope you didn't get lost.
Let's get back into the zone.

We keep it in our "holsters" also known as our pockets.
When the cell goes dead you'll be running for that socket.

While its charging you still tryna turn on the power.
Sitting by a wall with your phone for an hour.

It thought you mastered your phone after you paid for the cost.
The tables have turned, it seems your phone is the boss.

You've got an avid addiction to the "Instagram Likes".
With your followers filling your head up with Instagram Hype.

#WCW's, #MCM's.
First you follow they page, then you Slide in then DM's.

The hottest trends, the funniest posts.
Once you hit 100k, then you able boast

Popular users pages get the "InstaFame"
But you ain't no celebrity it's just a game.

You post a pic up daily and thank your "Fans" the most!
But the fame don't exist when your followers are "Ghost".

But what do I know? I just see it as I call it.
Consider me your counselor and you, the "Likecoholic"

No I'm not judging, I was once and am addicted.
Sincerely yours, the mirrored hypocrite.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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