A friend so good before,
Turned into a foe.
Now, he holds a cellphone,
And wears wrinkled brows.

Comes his textmate's reply,
And he would flash a smile.
But when I dare to talk,
He would give a tiger look.

No more time for a conversation,
Just busy pressing the keys  of his phone.
Oh, I wish I had a magic,
Break the phone and make him sick.

His money instead for the food,
He will use it for the load,
And feels so uneasy,
When words "low battery" display.

Chores at home left undone,
Waiting for a hardworking someone,
'Cause the "busy" person assigned,
Is tired of thinking a nonsense reply.

Dear friend, what have you got?
You know you changed a lot,
Have you taken the "poison"
Of your stupid cellphone?