I scroll through dawn, I swipe past night,
Bathed in the blue of electric light.
A thousand voices fill my head,
But not a soul hears what I’ve said.

A timeline stretched like chains of thought,
Where every post is sold and bought.
I lost my name to usernames,
A spark reduced to likes and games.

I tried to leave, to breathe, to see—
But found no path to truly be.
This world is vast, yet makes me small,
A mirror maze, a silent call.

Can you hear me through the screen?
Not the words I type, but what I mean.
Beneath the filters, jokes, and streams,
I’m stitched together out of dreams.

Back to the touch, the grounded air,
To laughter shared in real despair.
Back to the mess, the pain, the grace—
A voice, a hug, a human face.


𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵