In the glow of a thousand screens, they sing,
The anthems of our youth repurposed to cling
To pills we never sought, cures we don’t need,
A symphony of profit unmasked as greed.
Behold the stars, their gleaming veneer,
Tied to vices they swore to steer clear—
Now hawking wagers, a gambler’s despair,
Their fame forfeit in the devil’s snare.
The politicians, bold in their deceit,
Craft narratives where truths retreat,
Turning honesty into a weapon’s guise,
A war of ads where the victor lies.
And lurking in code, the dark patterns bloom,
An algorithmic snare, a digital tomb.
Malware cloaked in banners bright,
A Trojan horse in the guise of light.
For what is this spectacle, this endless grind?
A machine of allure to captivate the mind,
Yet its spoils are fleeting, its harvest thin,
A hollow reward for the chaos within.
Advertising, a tempest that consumes the air,
Leaves us fractured, burdened, laid bare.
Its costs are steep, its gains unclear,
A voice that shouts but no one will cheer.
So let us ponder, in this fleeting haze,
The price we pay for the glittering blaze.
When the echo fades, what will remain?
The scars of persuasion, a lingering pain.
