(A poem for depressed Millennials)
Your elbow is Instagrammed
in the archives of my Gmail.
Your body is frozen,
in a filtered world where
everything seemed beautiful.
I tried to sew fragments
of old Twitter posts,
like a forensic technician
analyzing data in a black box
after a plane full of students
crashed in the Utah mountains,
but there aren't enough characters
to compose a clear record of what
exactly happened before the
crash & burn.
I heard your poem about me
went viral on Tumblr.
Good for you.
Too bad we can't
re-blog the happy times
or re-write our failures.
Michael Mira's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Instagram'd by Michael Mira )
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