My cellphone is a drug.
I need to feel its buzz to know
I will always grab the attention of somebody.
My self worth relies on how many people
Like my self-portrait
Or note this poem.
Somewhere along the way I started to measure my friends
By the number of followers
I had on twitter
Or how many people
Commented upon my profile picture
To tell me I looked beautiful in the light.
I know that I am pretty and
That I could write a decent poem if I tried.
I know that I'm never alone
But I cannot bear this silence.
For more than an hour
My phone has not rung.
No one has called me today.
Am I forgotten?
I cannot sit still
With this possibility ringing through-
With access to nearly a million people
In my back pocket-
How could they all forget me?
I'll admit I am a self-absorbed attention *****;
A product of the 21st century.