What is It

Bright and illuminating it wakes us,

Beckons us with chimes and dings.

Names only belong to numbers.

Endless twists and turns in the roads

Paved with memories captured falsly.

Our pockets are light yet heavy

Burdened by the cravings.

Thirsts quenched

But we leave unsatisfied

With what see and what we feel

What we wish was ours

What we know cannot be ours.

When tragedy strikes,

When lust desires to be fed,

When joy needs to be shared,

When the world around moves slowly

We turn to what can please

Yet cannot fulfill.

Everyday it's again and again,

We return to the place where

Our obessession knows no ends.