We always have to look our best
For the hallowed, family photograph;
That goes without saying it seems.
And now thanks to Instagram,
It's a narcissist's paradise.
Yet somehow it feels, like the
Remnants of a vacuous dream.
Adverts flash endlessly,
On Modernity's bright screens.
Everyday life is becoming
Like a crass Hollywood movie.
It all make me want to retreat
Back, into my shell, like a tortoise.
For in these current times,
Of shameless self - publicity,
Surely silence is golden.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem