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A Silent Phone

No People, No Sound

By Erin WinansPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Each weekend,

I’m left to my own thoughts,

always wondering what people are doing.

It’s just the norm now,

being trapped in my own

suffocating habitat.

In the wild I see people and we

exchange pleasantries.

Why are they called that?

There’s nothing nice about it

when it just reminds me that

everything I have is on the surface.

You don’t get anywhere on the surface.

When the question

of what I’m doing is asked

I say the usual,

this and that.

What are this and that?

I always wonder what would happen

if I just stop texting everyone.

But... I don’t really want to know.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Erin Winans

Hello! I'm Erin and I'm a recent graduate from James Madison University. Ultimately, my dream job is to become a film critic, so I made a personal blog in which I post reviews I write in my free time.

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