Social Media.
Post. Scroll. Repeat. We are trapped.
When will we be free?
How does it work?
This is the same question I've been asking. https://todaysurvey.today/art/social-media-trap%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="w4qknv-Replies">.css-w4qknv-Replies{display:grid;gap:1.5rem;}
More stories from Annie Edwards and writers in Poets and other communities.
These four enclosed walls: Home is where my prison is. Depression is real.
By Annie Edwards 3 years ago in Poets
They told me I was damned, but then they made me saved. Unholy. They made me holy. They said I was in pieces, damaged and afraid.
By Amanda Abela5 days ago in Poets
This ghazal reflects the tension between motion and stillness, between certainty and doubt. The beloved becomes a quiet anchor—present not through closeness, but through meaning. It is a poem about how love survives distance by becoming direction itself.
By heasb0017 days ago in Poets
Without ever noticing it at the time, I realised that after the years, I’d turned into a version of him. I’d started speaking like him, moving like him, eating like him, acting like him—and now that I think about it—looking like him.
By Cristal S.2 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
This is the same question I've been asking. https://todaysurvey.today/art/social-media-trap%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cstyle data-emotion-css="w4qknv-Replies">.css-w4qknv-Replies{display:grid;gap:1.5rem;}