Jeremy Leach

Fishing for sympathy

There’s a secret corner of the internet where she talks

Where people listen and with zero thought, say “oh you poor thing”

The echo chamber where people go to hear the playback of their own inner-thinking

 

The place where shocking tales are told about a cooked-up reality

The place where people just agree, without being a true, critical friend

And quickly give their scroll-by likes and hugs, without even reading to the end

 

But way deep inside her, the patient eye of conscience flickers. Waiting

Waiting through all her endless comments,  pseudo-psycho-virtual therapy, distorting the facts with the fiction

Hoping that one day see might find a better direction

 

That from her boat she might glimpse a light of truth, out in that perfectly made up storm

And she washes up on a distant shore, all bedraggled and forlorn - but free from any more foolish journeys

Of self destruction, out on that sad, soulless, raging, endless ocean. Fishing for sympathy.