I sit in people and live by myself.
To look phone face is less lonely
And I read and write for a night.
A yellow cake will cut a birthday.
A child’s laughter spreads cream,
On face funny over Santa Claus.
The big ones look down on feet,
When cream is over their faces
And balloons sputter empty air.
We keep the big world from kids.
Faces froze in phone wastes feel
Less lonely to read for the night.