We Were Hollow From The Start Poem by Arijit Lahiri

We were always a brand—
not people.
Just bio-data with filters,
dead behind designer captions.

We say we're 'rediscovering ourselves daily'
like it's a yoga class—
but the mirror?
It's a black hole where a soul once paid rent.

As a species, we're static.
Rape news? Scroll. Sip. Move on.
Pain is content.
The train leaves. So do we.

Rage? Only when the Wi-Fi dies
or Zomato ghosts us mid-craving.

We don't live anymore—
we extract.
Dreams, lovers, time, even our grief—
sucked dry and posted by noon.

Inside, we burn like unpaid furnaces.
Outside, we chill like corporate mannequins.
And deep in the chest?
A balloon wired to explode.

Pop it.
Spoiler: there was nothing inside.
We've been empty since v1.