Who do I become
at will of two thumbs
dancing across the alphabet;
conducting captions just to get
likes on all my Facebook posts-
acknowledgement that they get all my stupid jokes?
Who am I when the walls are down;
when the screens are shut, and no one's around?
See me in my natural light, cropped and centered
you just might
catch me in my natural state-
My words and actions prove equate.
There is no surge of electricity
that exists to match the authenticity
of who I am behind the screens,
within my soul, throughout my genes.
What could you say about my past?
It doesn't read through shadow contrast
casting on my deep brown eyes;
I've seen some things, I've heard some lies.
No adjustment of saturation could come close
to express my infatuation
with the people/places/pets I love,
on some social media account
I've made use of.
No adaptation of my face
shows what I think of outer space.
Most of my thoughts
are out of this world-
could you tell that from a picture that's swirled?
My Instagram has more of a filter
than the words I use to throw out of kilter
the flows and norms of my society-
The pains that make me cry, you see?
I speak my mind, it's who I am,
though I clog your feed with trivial spam
I find unique, obscene, or humorous;
my span of interests is quite voluminous.
High and mighty,
all my pride
does choose to sit indoors
behind some vague computer screen,
uploading all that comes to me.
may strike up my anxiety,
or toy and question
a state I do prefer to live in
that helps me access all that's within
myself, my battles,
and all my glory-
Add that to your Snapchat story!
The freedom to express is not a matter of privilege;
you can't count the pixels
that make up your true image.
Log into real life,
leave the electronics on the shelf;
there is no link to access your inner self.
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