Addicted To Being Addicted

I’m hooked, taken, I need social media, A regular dose of cyber space. I need it to relax my nerves every day, Exist in a cloudy ethereal place. My worries are real, palpably true, I worry I am not what I type, Those hours of printing opinions on the screen… They only ever keep up the hype. Yet to alleviate this stress, I get on the net, To relax even for a little short burst. It quenches my need to feel important, It quenches my primitive thirst. Actually, I’d love to stay and tell you more, But I feel the need to surf like a pro, And discuss everything political word wide, My username’s: The Flying Scarecrow.