Ghost in the Timeline

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In this age of scrolling thumbs,

I watch my privacy run while curiosity comes.

Once, I peeked through window blinds-

Now I wander through other people's “Private” timelines.


I move like a silent shadow in the glow of screens,

Hiding behind digital masks and recycled memes.

My voice drifts through this virtual haze,

Lost inside a web of endless gaze.


Sometimes I slip into masks made of air-

One of many dark-mode ninjas out there.

I slide through cracks in the cyber night,

Chasing whispers, avoiding the light.


Tap, zoom, screenshot-oh, what a sport.

All for a story that’s three seconds short.

A fleeting moment, a viral spark,

Filed away in the archives of my digital dark.


I chase the thrill-yes, that secret high-

A hunger even algorithms amplify.

In every endless scroll, I drown my fears,

Trading bits of myself for borrowed cheers.


And when I’m caught, I laugh and say,

“Oh, it’s just research!”-sure, okay.

But deep beneath the little lies,

I know I’m just another ghost in disguise.


Because in this content-hunting online town,

I peek while pretending to look down.

It’s a dance of masks in neon glow-

And the truth is a story no one truly knows.


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