Life is a simulacra,
An algorithm come to life,
A reflection without depth,
A brand in constant strife.

Scrolling through the endless feed,
Caught in curated streams,
We shape ourselves for others’ eyes,
Trapped in virtual dreams.

Life is a program,
Build on metrics and control,
Each post a calculated move,
Each click a fractured soul.

Life is a simulacra
An algortihm come to life.
And we are stuck in its equations,
A glitch behind a pixel-perfect frame.

The real us fades away.
A brand we fight to keep,
A polished, filtered version
Of the things we never speak.

I reboot, refresh, repost
But it’s never quite enough,
A cycle built on empty clicks,
A game I cannot win.

Forgotten posts in endless feeds,
Outdated thoughts, abandoned needs.
We left our mark in data’s glow,
Now lost to those who’ll never know.

In archives cold, our names remain,
A million voices in refrain.
The tags we wore, the trends we chased,
Become the ghosts that can’t be traced.

Digital ghosts, we roam we drift,
In servers’ depths, our life is mist.
We leave no tomb, no stone, no prayer,
Just remnants in the endles air.