The message pops up multiple time a day
Memory is full, delete some stuff away
But all i have are dead apps that never stir
Each more important than the other
Ever had a gadget stained with desire?
It works fine but it's filled with fire
Could a machine have so much heart in it
Even more than one or two human units?
My memories are now made up of bits and bytes
Data coursing through my veins, sub-microscopic nanites
Always connected but still cannot play
Memory full, delete some apps away
I'm overloading and it's a beautiful way to go
Someday they'll dig me up from archives and then they'll know
What it meant to feel something in this fucking digital age
How it felt to overload with love and with rage
Fighting the stupid phone that keeps telling me to delete apps.