Oh, look another soul just got saved by a hashtag, groundbreaking, let me get my notepad

You read a headline, maybe two, you skimmed a viral thread, and now you're in authority on suffering and dread

You stitched a brand new conscience from some secondhand boutiques of trendy terminology

You'll abandon in two weeks

Your bio's a minefield of pronouns, acronyms, and flags, a carefully curated collection of designer brand new rags

You wear to hide the fact your soul's a vacant barren lot

The only cause you're fighting for is to not be forgot

It's a paint by numbers passion, a revolution themed retreat

Your profile picture's screaming, but your life is obsolete

This is the great unblank in the hollowing inside, so you decorate the prison where your spirit went and died

You call it being conscious, call it being woke and blessed, I call it putting lipstick on your existential dread

You found a better way to say that you have nothing else to say

Congrats on your new conscience, I'm sure it'll be gone by May

You cancel someone online, then you go and get a latte

Your outrage lasts as long as your organic soy chai latte

You post a black square feeling bold, a hero in the fight, then you binge watch a new season of some garbage all damn night

The struggle is your aesthetic, the oppression is your brand

You hold your cardboard protest sign with a manicured hand

You don't want change, you want a choir, an echo in the void, a round of gold star stickers

For the principles you've deployed from the comfort of your sofa on a phone that's made by slaves

You're the bravest, kindest person surfing on performative waves

This is the great unblank in the hollowing inside, so you decorate the prison where your spirit went and died

You call it being conscious, call it being woke and blessed, I call it putting lipstick on your existential dread

You found a better way to say that you have nothing else to say

Congrats on your new conscience, I'm sure it'll be gone by May

You know what's at the core of it, the terrifying dull ache, the silence in the mirror

For goodness gracious sake, you're empty

It's that simple A drum without a skin, and this dogma is the loudest, most convenient way to fill it in

It gives you tribes and enemies, a rulebook and a role, a cheap and easy substitute for

An actual living soul

I'd almost feel sorry for you, but that would be a lie

Your cure is just as shallow as the reason why you cry

Bravo

Now, what's the next big cause

I need to know what to ignore

Let me know when you find a new costume

I'll be here watching