Media’s Hollow


What confidence is found in sharp bones and browned hide?

What respect is projected by lashes darker than darkest night

and suffocating artifical powders?

Turn the page, turn the corner, turn the channel,

the image is ingrained, unchallenged.

What comfort is derived from torture’s spiked shoe

and choked skin in exorbitant material?

What life is expounded by empty thoughts,

empty laughter, and empty love?

Turn the page, turn the corner, turn the channel,

the cloned image remains.

What diabolic media dismissed the precious individual

to be exiled?

What grotesque minds destroyed grace and her persuasion?

Turn the page, turn the corner, turn the channel,

the image is hollow.

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