All is clung to a phone.
All is used to a tone.
Shall any ever succumb?
If tearing in bits,
is the world's womb?

To some creatures, the phone is a mother.
To sum all, it's a company rather; like no other.
What do you say?
What fact can you lay?

When it fails, the world goes offline.
You have zero abouts, of what's happening online.
Its cord is the oxygen, to a suffocating land line.
As a mother's cord, is her baby's life line.

Does it now make sense?
As all is chained to phone,
like a mother and child?
or it's nonsense?
Wipe off the pretense!

In the universe's womb,
the phone is the umbilical cord,
for it connects us all globally
to the world.

Shall any ever succumb?
If tearing in bits, is the world's womb?
And the umbilical cord of the phone, is the only rope with hope to hold?