We study faces before speaking,

Each word weighed like gold dust—

While empty chatter fills rooms

Like static on dead channels.

Truth cowers in corners,

Wrapped in sanitized syllables,

As algorithms slice our tongues

Into acceptable pieces.

Our vocabulary shrinks

To pre-approved patterns:

Binary thoughts, sterile phrases,

Manufactured meaning.

We've traded wisdom for comfort,

Soul for safety,

Till our words float like plastic flowers—

Perfect, pristine, lifeless.

Behind screens and smiles,

We swallow raw feelings

Like broken glass.

"Palatable content only," they say.

Now we stand in soundproof boxes,

Each heartbeat muted,

Our eyes screaming novels

No one dares to read.