Social media's intent was to spread authentic information among people but a few motivated by their selfish motives used it to generate those flocks which easily form conjectures just on the basis of baseless accusations disseminated from unknown sources and keep on barking with profanities on others.

Try to see that we're all on repeat
Improving techniques
Familiarity comes with a fee
Feel free to pull up a seat
but take this receipt
Déjà vu is approved

Repetition helps us relate too
A translation of trauma
Through authentic remnants
When fragments come loose
from sourced attributes

Filter your core beliefs
The further we seek
Higher levels of attainment
require persistent maintenance
No rehearsed alliteration
or forced informal acquaintances
Be true to you

I didn’t know that when I made this decision, it would mean saying hello to me and bye to you;
I held on so tightly when I hugged you, in case you were too delicate to piece yourself back together.

I started thinking about all of the memories we made together and the times I needed you most.
Now to think of it, you were always there for me even if it wasn’t in person.

You’d always be that voice from a distance which is funny because I always thought I was that voice and I was calling you.
All I ever wanted was for you to return my call and follow my voice through the tunnel; I would have promised that as long as I’m around, you’d never get lost again; but I get it.

We both are young and lead different paths and that is why I had to leave; because in order to find you, I have to find myself so that I can be steady enough to piece you back together.

A day a while ago
I sat down by a tree
I asked him 
if he ever gets bored
I really wanted to know
has he ever wondered
how it feels to run

He looked at me
not in my eyes
for a long time
long enough at one point
I knew at once

There was no room
for questioning
wondering was
a waste of time
when you are so fully
being yourself.

I'm told I should want
to be a saint but I don't
because I'm wicked

Why paint the town white
when red is much more like it
the color of sin

What makes it a sin?
because you don't understand?
or it leaves a stain?

Just a brush of red
tells you just how I like it
and where I want it

Splash it here and there
color me bad and tell me
I'm going to hell

Among coal and fire
surrounded by souls like mine
I'm in good company

What could be better
than floating on clouds of white?
Dancing in red fire

So no - I don't want
to be a saint because I
love being wicked

Red suits me better anyway