Internet friends are fake, unreal, untrustworthy.
Parents say , “Don't give your information
to someone who may do something dirty!
They're liars, evil and rapist in waiting.
Their compliments and gifts
are just another form of baiting.”
I'd like to think that we judge without
getting to know,
what happens on the other side of the mouse.
Internet friends are there when we're alone,
till 2 a.m on weeknights,
chatting with us until the pain is gone.
They're always there to confide,
when we're sometimes
on the verge of suicide.
Pulling us through our depression,
begging us not to relapse,
not to succumb to our regressions.
“Get help, not attention,” they'll tap in chat,
as a response of a picture,
that'll show our wrists all hatched.
Sometimes it's the little things they do for us,
like sending “You're amazing” “You're beautiful”,
“You're so full of love.”
They encourage us at times when our “friends” don't,