at a time like this?
Narcissus, staring
down the reflection,
not frilled dafodils,
beauty is to bare all,
but confined, controlled,
and cyborg ways,
to the digital void
lost among echoing
screams or pedestaled-
lifted till the inevitable
fall from grace, from space,
to perhaps a nostalgic
"Remember when?"
but more likely, alone,
crying to go viral again.
(like me, love me, this avatar, i made)
mirrors get tossed
the hourglass turns
memories no longer
objects of mind, but
photos to accept, reject,
emotions a status, not season
not cycling that lovely curve
towards death, to be precious
is to be fleeting, rare. Yet now,
our footprints and life,
presented as permenant,
not the brief smushed mud
it's always been, now we no grow
wrong step, wrong word,
not the lesson it once was
To cancel a human, how can we?
Humanity, we are the abyss,
and we will look back on this.
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