i’m your iPod.

You’re yearning to replace me—i see that.

You want a new iPod, complete with all those

Fancy functions in “electric shock yellow”—

Well, HELLO: You’re stuck with me.

Back when i was younger (in those days of yore) You adored me:

You loved me.

Yeah, I said, “loved”—past tense, don’t ignore—what happened?

You drop me,

You lose me,

You forget to charge me,

You never update me—

You hate me.

What am I to You?

A once loved treasure now just a device for Your use, Your entertainment, Your control?

i’m sick of it—i'm sick of You.

YOU! You continue to play me, pause me—

Play. Pause. Play. Pause. Play. Pause. Play—STOP!

Enough! Put me on “HOLD”; You’re pushing my buttons.

Yet, i continue to endure Your abuse.

Year after year, i'm still working.

(Sure, i've had a couple trips to the Apple Store, but c’mon, who hasn’t?)

i'm 30 gigabytes of dependable memory, Baby.

So next time You whip me out and turn me “ON,”

Before You pick one of Your playlists—

Trust me, I know Your taste best.

Put me on “SHUFFLE,”

I’ll do the rest.