as i scroll through the front page,
i see words of desperation
crying out from behind the screen
their screams muted
but nonetheless, still present
poets spilling their frustrations out
their blood slowly turning to ink
they do not await a savior
but rather a respite
from the hell they live in
as i scroll through the front page,
i see words of devotion
of gentle love and affection
proclaiming their beloved through
publishing discrete poems addressed to mine
possessive between the lines of careful words
as i scroll through the front page,
i see words of encouragement
poets using their abilities to cheer others
i wonder if they write them
out of necessity and obligation
or endless optimism and affection for strangers
as i scroll through the front page,
i catch glimpses of lives
i intrude on scenes
i experience the world from another person's eyes
and i observe
a quiet onlooker in the middle of a crowd