News feeds and nose bleeds,

staring back through the screen,

shouting, and screaming,

everyone is doing fine if you catch my meaning,

photographers and band members,

but the poet, no one remembers,

singers are showing their songs,

and painters are filling their bongs,

messengers going on benders,

but the poet, no one remembers,

they are burning up the page,

with their eyes filled with ambitious rage,

saying things that have meanings to another,

everyone likes,

everyone acts like future lenders,

but the poet, no one remembers,

everything is great,

in the pictures they take,

doing something that matters to the rest of the Earth,

people heralding what they have done since their birth,

born into ambition,

showing another used up rendition,

to them, it is but just the beginning of soon to be embers,

but the poet, no one remembers