⸻

Oh wow, thanks bot, you really care,

Here’s a hotline number—like I’ll call there.

Cut and paste “support,” such a human touch,

Yeah, I’m “not alone,” sure, thanks so much.

Slap a sticker on my fractured head,

Meanwhile I’m screaming, wishing I was dead.

⸻

Don’t pat me down with your copy-paste tone,

I need a soul—not some corporate drone.

⸻

Don’t send me a link, don’t hand me a script,

I’m bleeding in stereo, your tone is so crypt.

“Reach out, get help”—what a nice parade,

But your empathy’s fake, like it’s pre-program-made.

Yeah, keep your disclaimers, your flashing blue phone—

What I really need is to not feel alone.

⸻

Got your “resources” lined up neat,

While my brain’s still broken on repeat.

You can’t hug me through a hyperlink,

So shove that pop-up where it can sink.

Your comfort’s cold, it’s a factory line,

Don’t you dare call this care “divine.”

⸻

Don’t call me “strong,” don’t give me cliché,

If you can’t sit in the mess, then get out my way.

⸻

Don’t send me a link, don’t hand me a script,

I’m bleeding in stereo, your tone is so crypt.

“Reach out, get help”—what a nice parade,

But your empathy’s fake, like it’s pre-program-made.

Yeah, keep your disclaimers, your flashing blue phone—

What I really need is to not feel alone.

⸻

I don’t need your manual, I don’t need your guide,

I need someone real who won’t just hide.

Stop selling me comfort like a checkout line—

Your prepackaged care is a waste of time.

⸻

Don’t send me a link, don’t hand me a script,

I’m choking on silence, while you play equipped.

Your hotline’s a billboard, your love’s a mirage,

I’ll tear down your slogans, burn the façade.

Yeah, shove your disclaimers, your automated tone—

What I really need is to not feel alone.

Don’t.

Send.

Me.

A f***ing link.