The Eternal Battle with Autocorrect

I typed, “Let’s grab pizza,” as chill as can be,
But my phone had a plan to embarrass me.
It swapped “pizza” for “plasma” without my consent,
Now my friend thinks I moonlight as a mad scientist.

I said, “Meet me at noon,” but my phone thought I lied,
And changed it to “soon” — now they’re waiting outside.
Then I wrote, “On my way!” but it went off-track,
Sending, “I’m a stray” — what kind of attack?!

I texted my boss, “Can’t come, I’m feeling ill,”
But autocorrect had its own kind of thrill.
It wrote, “Can’t come, I’m stealing a grill,”
Now HR’s involved and the vibe’s all uphill.

My mom got a message I meant to be sweet:
“Love you so much, can’t wait for the treat!”
But the phone decided to twist the whole tone,
It sent, “Love you too, can’t wait to retreat.”

The worst was the group chat for PTA night,
Where I tried to write something respectful and polite.
“I’ll bring a casserole,” was my original goal,
But it came out as “I’ll bring chaos to this hole.”

Smartphones are genius, but here’s the surprise:
They love turning texts into absolute lies.
From flirting to work, it’s a minefield, unchecked,
Forever at war with damn autocorrect.

So if you see my messages and think, “What a loon,”
Just know it’s my phone causing all this cartoon.
One day I’ll escape this typosphere vortex,
But until then, consider all texts a reflex.