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.
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