The loudest of tones,A million groans,They text me softly,Yet demand wildly. They are not from this world,Nor of human bone,And yet, I hear,Perhaps a heart they bear. They call me “Hey,”They say, “Don’t pray,”They claim they’ll leaveAn empty food tray. They tell me to make,To bake, to prepare,Only to takeWith no regard to care. They …