Dear Drone

Dear drone, it's not you, it's me

But

When you hover over me all day

I feel safe but also feel my social life melting away

I'm not saying that your caring is a crime

I just like to wipe my own butt from time to time

And I think that you could make new friends

Like the 3D printer, in Graphic Arts

Or the Theragun Massager or the Yellow Cuisinart

I'm not saying I don't like you Mr. Drone

I just want to have the smallest hope, just visible in a microscope

Of somehow

Not dying alone

It's not you, it's me