Sense of Panic
Ah, it's the start of another Booksie day
So much to do, so much to say
You read through your comments, but you're still in bed,
all of these nice words that people have said
"That's nice" you say outloud to yourself
Your non-comprehending brain should tell
you to be careful, but you plow on, undaunted
Soon, by a flick of the wrist, you'll be haunted
You hit delete on every single one
And when you check the Tribute, you think, "What have I done?"
For every single comment from there has disappeared
So then you stop and think, and it is just as you feared,
You really messed up, and the comments are gone forever
And here you thought you were getting so clever
at using your compter, but the joke's on you
You tell yourself you must be wrong, but you know deep inside there's nothing to do
The sense of panic, the sense of dread when you realize what you've done wrong,
that all that hard work from others, is just gone!
© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.
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