Typo and Autocorrect

How many times, I ask thee,

Have thou glared at the tiny screen

Fretting over the tiny typo

Disrupting thy eloquent speech?

Or perhaps, thy day

Has been too packed and occupied 

For thee to think and overthink 

About these silly things like me

And then again, I ask thee,

About the times thou hast been grateful 

(As thy fingers raced across the keyboard; tap-tap-tap)

For thy saviour- Autocorrect?

As thy finish typing out

That peroration at last

(Oh so fluent!)

Does it occur to thy mind

Of these fleeting mistakes of thine?

Or perhaps, thy day

Has been too packed and occupied 

For thee to think and overthink 

About these silly things like me

Perhaps in the rat race somewhere

Thou lost thy true self

And the mask of thy "virtual" form

Was thy only presence left...

In the complex world of mistakes

And the tangled forms of right and wrong

The yearning of an "autocorrect"....

In the brutal reality of life

(Does that bring forth a suppressed desire...?)

Or perhaps, thy day

Has been too packed and occupied 

For thee to think and overthink 

About these silly things like me