My Life as a Flash Drive

I have a master,
he carries me round his neck
sometimes though,
He puts me in his pocket
with coins and handkerchiefs
or ties me together with his car keys,
so that he cannot lose me.

How would he function without me?
I am his servant-boss
I'm the custodian of all his secrets
From the unvisited folders containing religious quotes
to the untold, unedited stories.
His favorite movies and music
to the picture folders of his naked wife and the recently hottest females
I also know his best folder
'By his Grace'
-Euphemism much....
Only I know there is no grace in there.
Sometimes when he carries me round his neck,
I hang close to his chest
then his heart and I converse in silent whispers
what we know.

I have been to many holes,
from Acers, to Dells to Compaqs, Samsungs and a list of many others.
Out of this beak dipping,
I suffer various viruses
some mild, others I have to see the spy-ware doctors,
scanned, diagnosed then treated
sometimes when my master ties me with his car keys,
And they make that annoying cluttering noise
I want to remind them
I've been to more places than they'll ever be
so that they could just shut it.

Sometimes, actually all times
I hate this working life
of being carried around
forced to be the servant
while in fact I'm the boss.
A powerless, voiceless boss
I would love to drop into his wife's purse
or even better,
with the string he ties me on his neck
strangle him to his death.
If for these duties could be relieved off me.
Or I just crush
and there will be no technology modern enough
to cure me.



(Photo courtesy of Google Images)