I suppose my words hold no value

To those within your phone

I suppose I can’t remove you

From your electronic throne

Which possesses all your time

So, ignorant and blind

Is there purpose in speaking

When my words do not confine?

A conversation is established

Engaged as we converse

I feel as though your time

Gives me a sense of worth.

A passionate catastrophe

When a text turns into blasphemy

Unquenchable rage

Converts into insanity.

No longer do I wish

To partake in conversation

When electronic vibration

Results in immediate segregation

What ever would you do,

If your phone did not exist

Would your body be perplexed

By the text you thought you missed.

Your phone is a violent,

Malicious, and satanic contraption

That literally obliterates

All human interaction.

So I suppose the question is,

“What really ticks me off?”

And that question can be answered

As quick as uttering a cough.

It comes from the ignorance

That every phone injects,

When humans get their fuel

From the “bing” of every text

No worries are given

It does not matter place and time

So the answer to the question

“What makes you ticks the best?”

It’s really nothing more than a little



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