I wrote this on my iPhone,

Because pen and paper is dead.

I wrote this on my iPhone,

Because otherwise this won't get read.

I live in a whirlwind world that doesn't plan on slowing down.

No one thinks about the stop, look, and listen.

And to focus on everything that's going around.

All I see are scary headlines and fake reports,

About an orange-haired President or some guy that messed up.

Instead of making the world a better place

We cannot get over Donald Drumpf.

I read my news on my iPad,

Because the Wall Street Journal forgot my address.

I take my notes on my iPad,

Because I can download that other app that everyone has.

I'm not sure when I last took time to sit and listen,

To a whole lot of nothing in my ear.

Even when we relax and chill out, a Snapchat is near.

Is ignorance really bliss?

Or is it a concept we've all grown to miss.

A fight and a protest when I turn on the tv.

Are we becoming more educated?

Or finding something else to make us scream?

Imagine if we all just took time to do a good thing.

For that random guy that you drove by on the street.

But who am I to talk?

I might be the biggest asshole of the lot.

What if Black Mirror became real?

And tech paranoia is already something we all feel.

I'm starting to freak myself out, so maybe I'll just click the off button, and look at my reflection in the mirror.

Who am I to be the judge?

Of an issue on a subject, many people won't budge.

I think Hillary Clinton sucks.

And now I'm the big schmuck.

But I said it on my iPhone,

From behind a not-so private veil.

So if you read this, don't ask don't tell.

A culture of protest has begun to ensue.

But what are the real things that make you smile?

All those fun things we used to do.

Go on a run, it's been a little while.

Get off your computer, quit talking about that wall.

Or we can keep tweet or text fighting.

For a cause we aren't sure is ours.

Hold on, gotta check Twitter.

I will never call myself a social media quitter.

Am I right? Always.

Do you agree? No.

Sounds like another argument

Of which I'm the final judge.

Count to three, take a deep breath.

Our country isn't on the verge of death.

But why should I write my piece?

I think my writing is a mess.

Maybe I want to make you mad.

Because that would bring me peace.

Or maybe I want you to feel that anger, sorrow, or happiness.

Something that makes you speak.

In a saturated online world, how big is my voice in the grand scheme?

Even if I yell, kick, and scream

People will probably walk right by.

Or laugh at a meme.

But who am I to talk?

I'm probably the biggest asshole of the lot.

I wrote this from my iPhone,

So my thoughts are scattered like an ADD child.

Maybe it's the constant technology