If I fall in a forest,
And no one is around to hear,
My graceless collision with the ground,
Did I make a sound?

I would still have the bruises,
Or whatever the tree equivalent is,
And my bark may still sting,
But would the echo ring?

If I fall in a forest,
And no one likes my post,
My strategically formulated caption,
Why does everything feel like it's caving in?

I would still have the moment,
Where I took the picture,
Locked in my memory,
Or maybe not–
I chose instead to exist as pixels.