Ironic, isn’t it,
To be seen by so many,
Eyes upon your every move,
A window to the world,
Yet a door locked shut.

A false sense of connection,
More friends than ever before,
Likes that flood your screen,
But how many really know
The you behind the mask?

Fingers swipe, messages blur,
An endless stream of faces,
Yet in the quiet moments,
Who remains?
Who hears the whispers of your soul?

So hold to hope, and trust the few,
Who see the world beyond the view,
For in their hearts, you’ll find a place,
Of genuine warmth, a true embrace.