Once upon a midday dreary, while I scrolled on, bummed and teary,
Over many a short and spurious video of current cultural lore—
While I blinked on, nearly napping, suddenly there came a trapping,
In the form of someone boldly capping, capping on my #fyp tour.
“’Tis some new #tiktoker,” I muttered, “capping on my #fyp tour—
Only this, and nothing more.”
Oh, bestie I can say it was not the brightest and shiniest day,
And I drew my curtains all the way, my own writings seemed a chore.
Desperately I watched with sorrow;—procrastinating till the morrow
All the trends they borrow—borrow for their follower core—
Imploring viewers with overstuffed closets full of things they never wore—
To shop their Amazon store.
And living rent-free in my head were the skits that left me dead—
Sending me, with POVs and with spilled teas never heard before;
So that now, as I sat wiping on my throne, I kept on swiping.
Now a lumberjack with nip nops out diligently worked his core—
Then a sneaky link pick-me girl stood attacking an enlarged pore;—
Lip-syncing her contour.
