A Virus | Poems that Suck

 It used to be my phone
 that I carried around, 
 in hopes that you'd
 call or, 
 message,
 like or, 
 comment - 
 

 All that meaningless bullshit that we
 equate with love, affection, and respect. 


 Now, it's this little book
 and the words have not 
 stopped pouring forth;
 like lancing
 a boil, 
 all the 
 blood, and
 pus and
 pain
 are coming out. 

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