Dumpster Diving for Your Love - Canto XVII (Unfinished)
In Sandy Palms, Ocean's whispers blend,
The blur of posts and tweets find wry way.
Let's discuss three user types, though they may oft blend:
The first seeks validation for the things they say,
Hungry for likes, much on others they depend.
The second type will argue, come what may,
While third attempts, in all forms, to connect,
Their earnest hopes by platforms' designs deflected.
This world, vast and varied, must embrace,
A free exchange where ideas can dance.
Yet not all thoughts deserve public space,
Already sealed as rubbish, no need for second glance.
Nazism, flat earth—foolish, out of place,
No truths to know, so no need to give chance.
Others still need criticism to pick apart,
For argument is growth, and growth a vital art.
John's guise after ghostly visit, wan and worn,
At breakfast beside him, Fitzie, miffed by unrest.
Their looks exchanged, a silent war,
What passed between last night kept close to chest.
"I'm having a hard time believing anything at all,"
John sighed, the weight of doubt confessed.
His statement hung, a cloud above the feast,
A hint of turmoil, not yet ceased.
Did Fitzie's guise as ghost provoke a scare,
Or deeper discussions of their online masques?
The morning light revealed the pair,
Each bearing signs of some nocturnal ask.
Was it a confrontation laid bare,
Or shared confessions while under moonlight bask?
Their tired eyes more than fatigue show,
A night of hard truths, where feelings did flow.
Aura's presence, like a recluse rare,
Untouched by online footprints, pure and stark,
Stood contrast to all the influencers' flair,
A model for John amidst infinite, digital dark.
Her lack of site presence, online unawares,
Offered John a different mark.
Could he, like her, eschew the hollow fame,
Or would he keep at the attention-getting game?
As breakfast lingered, thoughts unspoken,
The table's chatter could not disguise
The inner doubts that had been awoken,
John's mind conflicted shown in heavy eyes.
Which path led fair? Which merely token?
Fitzie's irritation, her own conscience sighs.
A choice lay ahead, a road unsure,
To continue the faking or a one-way detour?
Yet let us not assume John's conflict resolved,
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His struggles are ours deep within, unsolved,
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If from tech giants' chains we broke free.
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Ponder here at the end, reach beyond chosen veils,
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_______________________when all's on display,
T'will be sanity's cost as price we must pay.