The Bait Revision

Valencia, slumber, and inkwell

Shades and tainted images hide well

The blemishes and marks that always dwell


Lest depicting realness, an uncensored weakness 

A witty skill, unknown to those seeking just a thrill

The humor of one, not funny to many


Yet my image is

Splintered, split 

Crumbled, clipped

Fractured, fixed

Erased, effaced


For the preference of one 

For an alluring taste to the tip of the tongue

For the perfect bits of media chum 

For an audience of many parts, yet fixed to single fishing braid


Yet I am not a piece of bait


In a single upload, cropped photos

And tinted tones entice them all

I’d wonder if anything but picturesque

Legs and skin modified to its best would interest

A pool of communities, searching, liking from sea to sea


In a single feed, I cannot find authenticity

In an online thread, I’m misled

To think that only excellence,

Purity, flawlessness in quality

Should imbed and sink deep

And fault, error, all trials

Should tread far, and never again reap


Instagram, twitter, Facebook,

What is there to grasp? What is there to see?

A conceived image, a modified visage

Posted by Mr. Insecurity, Ms. Anonymity

With an Angular chin, thin waist, untainted face

No sight of a crook, no space for nooks

A sight a follower’s inadvertence took

Wonder what they’ll do when there’s no hook



This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741