Influence Infection
The hashtags cough and the hearts combust,
Fame a fever spreading through the digital dust.She caught attention
like a cold,
He traded his dignity, his secrets sold.No
cure for this—just a craving for glare,
Their stories a sickness infecting the air.Contagion is trending,
followers mutate,
Scandals repeated, virality innate.He faked his death, she wept on cue,
Each scandal a symptom of something untrue.Clout traded like contraband,
Ego a currency with a shaking hand.
Sympathy is a mask, rage a disease,
They post for reaction, needing release.The more that they share,
the less that they feel—Fame hollowed out every last
thing real.Performance is poison, applause is a plague,
Their names erased by the very tags they crave.Life is a filter,
death just a trend,
Nothing is sacred, nothing will mend.The host is exhausted,
the spotlight remains,
The soul is reduced to a list of domains.In the glare of the screen,
where no love can reside,
They shrivel in the limelight, only empty inside.
Symptoms are plenty: an urge to perform,
To bleed for attention, to crave every storm.The infection persists,
no matter the dose,
No feeling left, only what gets the most.You fed the fever,
you spread the flame,
Fame just a virus that devours the name.The dream was to matter, to be seen,
to belong—But the more that they stream,
the more it feels wrong.No medicine soothes,
no cure to be found—Only the grave silence when followers drown.The virus moves on,
the host left behind—A body remembered, a mind now unsigned.