Hi!
This isn’t your imagination speaking to you; though most folks in our wired generation lacks that.
Maybe a sponge in a box with a rainbow and somewhat realistic sound effects might help
THOUGH I digress as I have more important topics to talk about than phones,
rather what I observe in a day
And I see I must ask, whist trying to connect my thoughts though the pain of feet
OH!
So many feet
Like a conga line of death;
A line dance of agony;
Or the salsa of doom;
But I must remind myself that’s beside the point
My question is why:
Why do I deserve to hear such vulgar names
Thrown with more conviction than being in the Super Bowl on the last play of the game
YET,
instead of touchdowns
I hear angry retorts
And no wants to detort
A clash of teenage hormones, or simply:
THE WORLD’S BIGGEST POPULARTY CONSTEST!
In which really no one wins, and everyone in some ways loses
Especially me
I mean come on! 
It’s bad enough with painful words that bounce of my walls but
Books and bodies
Falling down like a 3 ton-brick
On my usually white (but other times different) colored head
Then we have the people who cheer and hail this like watching roman gladiators fight to the death,
they run to these situations like moths to a flame
And sometimes we become even more untamed
Yelling more jeers then then the Hollywood infamy
Then one loud voice as proud as a lion (along with a few hands) ends the fray.