A Truth about Media

A Truth about Media

I wake up in the morning and what do I see?

I see a screen looking back at me.

 

I look in the mirror and what do I see?

I see imperfection staring back at me.

 

From the moment I open my eyes

I am bombarded by all these lies.

 

Fake pictures appearing real,

How am I supposed to feel?

 

I walk through the mall,

I try to stand tall.

 

But there are pictures surrounding me,

Showing me how I am supposed to be.

 

I smile, it’s a lie

I can’t tell you how I feel inside.

 

I put on this act,

I converse with tact.

 

I feed people what they want to hear,

in hopes that they will draw near.

 

I want a friend who will listen, who will understand,

Not someone who will just demand…

 

My attention, my approval,

Not someone who just wants the removal,

of their own insecurities.

 

Someone listen to me.

 

I feel empty, worthless, hollow…

Can I get just one…more…follow?

 

I post again, and again, and again,

I scroll past ten…

 

Maybe twenty ideal situations,

So many expectations.

 

I fail so many times,

Can’t someone read, between the lines.

 

Of what I am posting

and all of my boasting.

 

I am confused and broken,

So many things left unspoken.

 

And here I sit behind my screen.

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