I whisper my truth into the air

A tiny, fleeting spark, so rare and bright

But if the likes don’t hit the mark

My precious voice stays lost in the dark

I feel this ocean’s vast and open wide

But I can’t be heard if I just hide.

It’s an Impossible Trade, a cruel design

To hear my name, I must praise yours

I drop my spark, hope someone sees the flash

Then I collect the others’ digital trash.

It’s a Fake Communication, a Fake Social Network

Where the signal is static and my voice gets stuck

I’m shouting loudly, but nobody’s near

Just swapping hollow compliments to disappear.

"It’s the Echo Chamber Waltz, and I dance alone"

He’s got fifty pieces, she’s got twenty-three

They’re all masterpieces, supposedly

But who has the time to truly sit and stare?

At all my tiny voices floating everywhere

So I click and I scroll, and I nod and I smile

Just to get my own five seconds on the pile.

It’s an Impossible Trade, a cruel design

To hear my name, I must praise yours

Out of a hundred praises, maybe three feel true

But I gotta keep up the act, or I lose.

It’s a Fake Communication, a Fake Social Network

Where the signal is static and my voice gets stuck

I’m shouting loudly, but nobody’s near

Just swapping hollow compliments to disappear.

"It’s the Echo Chamber Waltz, and I dance alone"

They tickle the itch of my need to say:

“I was here. I made this. Echo my name.”

But the mirror they hold up is cracked and absurd

Just making instruments out of every word.

Fake communication... Fake network...