They migrated over, a chattering flock,
Losers seeking a friendlier block,
Repeating the catchphrases learned on the bird,
Without an original thought in a word.
A digital jungle of feathers and noise,
Just parroting slogans, the echo-chamber boys.
And look at the posers who borrowed a face,
Snapping up headshots to fake up their place.
With Tinseltown avatars trying to gleam,
As dumb as the rocks in a shallow-water stream.
They wander about in a glamour-struck daze,
Lost in the haze of a borrowed applause.
But some of us settled with reason in hand,
No strangers to truth in this derivative land.
With logic as compass and common sense clear,
We quietly watch as they gather in fear.
We don’t need a script or a filter to speak
We’re here to show sheep how to walk for the weak,
To guide the pretenders who copy and paste,
And teach them how minds aren’t intended to waste.
Leave a Reply