That Thing In Your Hand Poem by Seamus O' Brian

That thing in your hand
You think you bought it
But who owns whom?
How do you feel
When it's hidden from sight?
Is that a bead of sweat,
A glint of fear in your eye?
You huddle around them
As if all of the texture
of the universe around you,
the wonders that surround you
Were nothing, it seems,
To the pixels and sounds
From a three by five screen.
Who is the master,
And who is the slave?
Disconnect the wi-fi,
(Ha─are you feeling brave?)
Hide all the chargers
And watch the world
Go mad.
Who is the owner,
And who is owned?
Nero played his violin
Enflamed by the fires of Rome;
We play Pokemon
With the fate of the world at stake
And it can burn in the fires of hell
Just so long as there's a selfie left to take.