It’s such a sad state of affairs,
That the department of psych doth declares,
And I say this heavily so don’t dismiss,
The average attention span goes no further than THIS.

It’s falling at an alarming rate,
But this poem isn’t designed to berate,
Rather I’d like to know why,
Because i’m just an inquisitive guy,
Why like a stone in a pond its dropping,
Its like you want sit there cropping,
The very things that make us whole,
Words, I feel, are the keys to the soul.

Now the irony isn’t lost on me,
That the people most affected flee,
Left us thinkers here in their dust,
Their cognitive abilities glazed with rust,
Gone back to single finger swipe,
Photos with short captions I liken to tripe,
No more eye contact with those they hold dear,
Of the ways of the world this one I fear,
Anxiety now strikes in crowded spaces,
Stronger over time by avoiding faces,
Always staring at that little glass screen,
A level of rudeness we should find obscene.

I just want to urge you all to return,
Understand its not too late to learn,
You can still read and surprisingly find joy,
In longer messages that author’s deploy,
These stories grow stronger over time,
I think to miss out is a mental crime,
So put your phones down and give it a look,
This wonder filled thing we call a book,
Generations without them is a crying shame,
When you finally look up you’ve got no one to blame.