A Formal Complaint from your Mobile Phone

by Harshita Das aged 14

Dear owner,

I have been most loyal to you
Served your every command
But my earnings have been pathetically few
Here are some of my polite demands

I work constantly at 14 percent
You refuse me reprieve
Then when I’m supposed to be charged, at night’s end,
You shrug shoulders and fall asleep

I am dropped on all varieties of materials
From water, to marble to concrete
Admittedly, the leather case makes it hard to feel
But I resent being treated like bird’s droppings;
Tossed around from street to street

You might think my complaints are without bite
No lawyer will come to my aid; my own manufacturer won’t bat an eye
I am, but an inanimate object; I have no human rights
But listen here, and listen well to my wails; my cries

I know more about you than your own family
I know your passwords, I know what you do in incognito mode
I know your address, your contacts and where you keep your keys
Your diary, your secrets, your weird obsessions, I have the ability to upload

The device currently buzzing in your pocket

The Poetry Zone

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