Can you feel your confidence
match the billowing crowd?
You even feel cocky, believing
you’ve earned the admiration of a few.
It is, in fact, what it appears to be:
a voice fastened to paper very carefully,
a cry cut from its mouth.
But then, you think, who is that
you’re talking to? There’s no one here,
just paper and ink and you.
What is this pathetic game?
Get out. Go find a friend.