Prisoner to the Cell Phone

Prisoner to the Cell Phone

In a cell with walls so bare and grey,

An old lady sat, had a chuckle and say,

“Now I see the reason, the clever pun,

Why they call it a cell phone, it’s not just for fun

It’s not about calling, it’s more like a chain,

We’re hooked to the screen, again and again.

We scroll through the world, we tap and we swipe,

Our phones are our cells, that’s the type

No guards, no bars, just a screen in hand,

We’re captives of tech in this modern land.

We laugh, we cry, we share our lives,

Yet from this small screen, no one truly thrives.

So here’s to the irony, a truth we now see,

Our phones are our cells, in a digital sea.

We might just escape with a smile and a wink,

And find freedom again, faster than we think.