Poems are selfies for brains,
Parading our joys and our pains,
We’re not sharing faces,
But much deeper places -
We’re hanging our souls out for praise!
We type them up, post them on Soup,
Keep our phones on to stay in the loop,
When an email comes in,
bringing love, it’s a win!
Our endorphins go whoop-whoop-dee-whoop!
We’re just like the Instagram lot,
Preened and pouting to show what they’ve got,
“But hang on, this is art!
We’re not vain - we’re just smart!”
Yeah - you’re right of course. I’m talking rot.