A phone

A phone never leaves. 

A phone understands.

The hypnotic screens

are glued to our hands.


A phone won't object.

A phone lets us speak.

Is this trully correct

or are we just weak?


A phone will abide.

A phone you can trust.

Society will die

and turn into dust.








This poem is about: 
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