'Society'—answer pleas that drift through heavy air.
artfone CS181 Black - Big Button Mobile Phone for Elderly.
For thirty-five winters I cling to a company of transmitting signals, with the blind faith of a fool, and watched my judgment shatter as they betrayed us again and again—failing in the hours of deepest need. One great failure of theirs is a telephone line, broken for years, that oft dies when the need cries loudest.
Their coldness is a stone upon the heart, knowing I am a broken, aged woman, a vast constellation of afflictions, in twilight's arms, my final repose looms, as daylight dies and darkness gently close. My son doth plead with desperate, weary cries, his small voice cracks, a mournful echo through the days,
Forced—to buy a mobile phone, though I cannot feed its endless hunger with coins I do not have. Even if never touched by hand, no whisper burdens the air, left to gather dust and time, still thou must bear the weight upon thine purse, for a sleeping SIM inside this troublesome shell.
Now burdened with a 2G device, cursed by a land where connection fails, and haunted by a cost I cannot bear, I see clear: the poorest among us must be spared this relentless charade that society forces upon the desperate. A cruel punishment for the broken. We need an exemption. We deserve one.
'Society'—answer pleas that drift through heavy air.
In halls of stone where shadows creep and crawl,
We slumber, lumbering through corridors so tall,
A tapestry of souls both lost and worn,
Where kindness fades and hope is left forlorn.
We built our walls so high to touch the sky,
Yet stand apart and wonder only why,
The bonds that once held hearts in sweet embrace,
Now scatter like forgotten tears of grace.
In crowds we walk, yet solitude remains,
A heavy weight that burdens all our veins,
We speak in tongues that echo through the void,
Where genuine connection is destroyed.
The masks we wear conceal our deepest pain,
As indifference falls like acid rain,
We chase what glitters, hollow and untrue,
While emptiness consumes our weary crew.
Oh society, you cradle us in night,
Where darkness swallows every bit of light,
We yearn to belong, to be understood,
Yet rest beneath a weight of misunderstood.