Mobile
No more mobiles in my hand
I hate to receive any more calls
I can't believe it to stand
Keeping mobile for no Goals
Mobile is, surely, black lie
Disturbs me for no reason
I hope it will finally die
To clear my air of that weapon
I wish to breathe the truth again
Where nobody can call the mobile
I hope, but, always in vain
I have to try again to redial
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
Vote for this poem
|
| benazouz | 
|
|
|
