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'It' ...Says to me

Ebony black colored thing said,lying on bed beside me
Stretching flat still busy inside, busy not on a spree

I have Tiny keys, you can touch me please;it sings not twice but thrice
Fidget  me or carry away; as however your need suffice

Ebony black, beautiful skin; covered in plastic case
Thin stripes,need constant wipe; right , left, top and base

Gaping hole in my pocket; brought along whence it came
But helps, in my consternation; gain fortitude in times of strain

Puzzling is the caricature, I see drawn on the net
I go there, you go here; my god! signals travel so much

Communicate, with your loved ones; do not leave dear ones too
When high on happiness, euphoric you; having fever or common flu 

You don't have lungs, nor two bums; still subtle is your feel
'It' intakes voices, shouts out noises; you look delicious, wishing 'It' could be my meal

Oh inventor of 'It' thing, 'where art thou' thee
Let me touch your holy feet, bless and set me free

[ Note: 'It' is a Mobile phone]

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