The Attention Seeker
The stage is set, the curtain parts, a practiced breath is drawn,
He stands beneath the spotlight’s glare before the break of dawn.
A master of the grand design, the architect of noise,
Who trades his inner quietude for hollow, gilded joys.
He wears a mask of many hues, a kaleidoscope of skin,
To hide the silent hollow where the dialogue begins.
For in the court of public eyes, he plays the frantic clown,
Terrified that silence might eventually pull him down.
He feeds upon the gasps of crowds, the whispers in the hall,
He’d rather be the villain than not be seen at all.
A scandal brewed in morning tea, a tragedy for show,
He waters every drama just to watch the garden grow.
The truth is but a canvas, often stretched and pulled away,
Until it fits the narrative he needs to win the day.
“Look at me!” the spirit cries, a beacon in the night,
Shining with a fevered and a self-consuming light.
On digital horizons, where the pixelated glow
Dictates the ebb of status and the rhythmic social flow,
He counts the heartbeats of the web, the metrics of the soul,
Giving up his privacy to pay the psychic toll.
A filtered face, a curated and artificial life,
A sharpened edge of vanity that cuts like any knife.
He measures worth in "likes" and "shares," in comments thin and brief,
A momentary harvest that provides a false relief.
