he sat there,
captured in his own glow,
a tiny screen held him hostage
his fortress of shallow sanctuary.
three warnings rang like
paper planes crashing,
a teacher’s patience
hitting empty,
their words soft grenades, disarmed,
dissolving midair.
the kid didn’t flinch, didn’t care
thumbs danced,
eyes dead to the world—
a kind of rebellion
too quiet to admire.
not a politician’s revolution,
just a scrolling eternity.
the room had stopped trying,
like a tired dog at the leash.
some learn from books,
some from silence.
but nothing would crack him
in that moment
except a charging port.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: April 20th, 2026 10:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
Offline)
Comments1
Addictions come in many forms and today many are addicted
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