The dark part of your soul leaks out
onto the pixelated screen.
It pulls you in, a caught fish,
hook lodged in your throat,
too painful to remove
as you post your rage,
your ALL CAPS soapbox POV,
shaking self-righteous fists
at imaginary crowds,
cheering your own agenda.
It makes no difference
not this kind of anger
not the narcissistic self-love
not the animated preaching
of the false underdog
clamoring for notice
your ears, tuned out, tone deaf
to the music, sweet and familiar,
your lullaby is deceptive
it's fooling you
breaking the connections
one by one by one.