Virtual

We’re breathing but where not alive.

We’re talking without making a sound.

World in view, but we are blind.

Riding high, hearts left on the ground.

 Material, ethereal everything is virtual,

critical, superficial, sexual.

Our life is conceptual,

planned out then made digital.

Stolen, then made visual.

Material, ethereal everything is virtual.

We are bones and we are flesh.

We are tired, far from fresh.

Broken and our hearts have died.

Our brains are balloons with no real mind.

Material, ethereal everything is virtual,

critical, superficial, sexual.

Our life is conceptual,

planned out then made digital.

Stolen, then made visual.

Material, ethereal everything is virtual,

This poem is about: 
My community

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