It’s been an ultra-busy week so far and no signs of letting up, just yet. Please bear with me, yet again. 🙏🏻🕊️
The Masked Reader
It comes with warmth, a friendly tone,
a note that seems to stand alone.
But read between the lines, beware—
not every praise is truly care.
“Beautifully done!” the words repeat,
yet nothing named, no detail sweet.
A hollow cheer, a practiced song,
a script that feels rehearsed, not strong.
The tale soon bends, the mask slips fast,
from reader’s joy to sales at last.
A childhood dream, a crafted pitch,
a subtle scheme, this bait‑and‑switch.
Three doors are opened, all at once—
email, Discord, Insta fronts.
A net is cast both wide and deep,
to pull you where the shadows creep.
“Reach out to me, before you buy,
I’ll answer questions, don’t be shy.”
But fans don’t sell, they simply cheer,
they don’t demand you draw them near.
So, mark the signs, the subtle wrong:
the tone too smooth, the praise too long.
A mask of love, a hidden plan,
not reader’s heart, but merchant’s hand.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 3rd, 2025 04:30
- Comment from author about the poem: One thing you'll notice is that they said they'd “read my story” when I only post poems. They didn’t quote or even allude to a single line; just gave generic praise. That’s another giveaway. A genuine reader usually mentions something specific that resonated with them. When the feedback is vague and mismatched, it feels less like appreciation and more like a template message. And then they want to get into your pockets!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Doggerel Dave, Tristan Robert Lange, PerditaRose
Offline)
Comments6
Ah Cryptic this poem strikes with its message not wording. The rhyme is good and flow is fine but I can read between the line. Victim and perpetrator I may be but the magician never reveals his trickery. To a poem bland I hold out a helping hand. How unkind would be to call a parent's child ugly. Instead find some small thing that a smile would bring. Forgive the spiel my friend it just came like a unplanned belch. I find worse the people that look for praise for their children but have no desire to see the children of others. At times I read poems that mean little to me and I have little to say, mother told me if you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all but I realize that it may just be me and it strikes others differently. So I plead guilty to the crime of generic (lovely) as an attempt at encouragement to write more. This was a poignant write my friend.
Cyber friends, cyber love and all that shit – impossible to in this instance quote any one line of your piece, It’s the cumulative condemnation which does the trick.
MPS is my only vehicle of conversation on the web, so I won’t make comparisons, though I have my suspicions, and if I took seriously the loose excrement which burbles out of here sometimes……
But it happens in the world of commerce via the net too. Ordered product from a company which checked out on Scamadvisor et al, took my money, did not provide the goods. I was delt with by someone styled as “Customer Happiness Officer”, who eventually became unhappy herself after months of correspondence and, I admit, some veiled threats, made an executive (lol) decision and refunded…..
Good write A.
Arqios, “Make me hear the sound of grinding steel”...that line rings like thunder through the whole poem. It’s the perfect refrain…brutal and human. Love it, my dear friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Such true words Rik, but some of us do read the poems and understand them. I do not want anything for my comment, LOL.
Andy
"the masked 'reader' not responding... not there? one way conversation now?
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