Isn’t all of this media

In the end

Just conditioning us

To be sad, pathetic

People-pleasing weaklings

Shells of ourselves

Performing weekly

Aren’t we all supposedly


How can a person

Fit on a page?

How can people

Like, share, and follow

In real life, instead?

When’s the last time

You had a nice chat with someone

On the train?

The only people that talk to me

In public nowadays

Are special needs, or

Hecklers, meanies, asshat dickies.

I talk to people online, instead

I get likes

I get shares

I get followed–

But what kind of validation

Is that?

I need to shake someone’s hand

Look them in the eye

Try to comprehend them

Skin to skin

I don’t like, I don’t want to share

And I don’t follow anyone

I get all my validation

From my gut, my instinct

My passion is laid bare

For anyone with eyes to see

I’d rather not make a post

If could help it

But alas, that’s all anyone

Ever pays attention to, anymore

If it’s not backlit–

It ain’t lit, I guess


I’ve been so sad, lately

Realizing that humanity

Is meant to fail

Who cares about validation–

When you’re thinking about

The end of the world?

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