My inbox pings; one more message arrives,
Each selfie brighter than the one they post.
I laugh out loud, but no one hears the sound,
My “LOL” just echoes back around.
I scroll for hours, a zombie with a glow,
Yet where’s the joy? My thumbs don’t even know.

Though the Wi-Fi's strong, the soul feels out of range, lost and estranged.

The comments pour, “You’re slaying!” “So on point!”
But praise like this feels hollow at the joint.
A “ding!” of hope—a message just for me?
It’s spam, again, for solar energy.
I laugh, then cringe; the void feels twice as deep,
All-night scroll marathons steal all my sleep.
I’m drowning here in hyperlinked despair,
So many people, yet no one to care.

Though the Wi-Fi's strong, the soul feels out of range, lost and estranged.

I put the phone away, step out the door,
The sun feels warmer than it did before.
A stranger jokes, I laugh till tears appear,
The screen can’t match the joy of being here.
It turns out life’s best filter is the sky,
Uncurated, messy, and oh-so-sly.

Why swipe for joy when a stranger’s smile feels brighter than the sky?