Dandelion seeds grow
to fly away with the wind—
and see the sky once.

who do I trust?
my inner voice?
what happens if I make that choice?

who do I trust?
are you my friend?
sometimes it's easy to pretend

who do I trust
to keep me safe?
one step from a knife in my face

who do I trust?
the government?
to what extent could I dissent?

I look around
and so many things are fake
that model has three hands
AI mistake

that model is a human
but I can't untangle
the lighting the filters the fillers
the edits the angles

they want me to compare
myself to that
to buy their diet pills
cause I think I'm fat

they want me to be
ashamed of myself
to not feel beautiful
without their help

while the algorithm
chases fame and youth
all along we're being told
different versions of the truth

and it makes us angrier
but also tamer
bouncing off the edges
of the echo chamber

performing to reflect
this invisible cage
we learn to conform
while they harvest our rage

and create a safe space
for the powers that be
the hands can't hit
what the eyes can't see

and the pied piper sings
such a catchy song
but my inner voice
says something is wrong

even as I learn to sing along
even as I use it to distract me from my problems

and the algorithm
has seen my soul
and it brings me things
that I want to know

to show me the stars
in a handful of dust

to show me something I can trust

poetry is about telling the truth
all the fancy words we use
are just window dressing