Sunday wordle on a monday

A meeting of words
a tap of the keys
our digitized selves
trapped in the looking glass
blue light eating our souls
divulging our secrets
into the systems eyes
never alone but always feeling so
or wishing you were
trying to paint over the cracks
too many years
to blink away the waste
lest the powers that be
might sample our misery
and find they like the taste

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