Filters.

Take off the filters and remove the blindfold,

Enter this world as you are,

Not as you are told-

That you should be.

Because that is not you,

It is not her, it is not him, it is not me.

Who are you really underneath?

I am human, I am messy, I am fucked up and I am me.

But who are you? I'd like to know,

Or maybe I wouldn't,

Maybe that's another filter of show.

Me pretending to care about who you are,

As if it affects my life in any way,

As if it makes us any less far,

From knowing one another, not just these words that you read.

That you can assume is truly the real me.

Take off the filters is what you have asked,

But I would like to point out if I may,

Just how hard that is to unmask.

How difficult it is to remove what we've become,

A generation of zombies attached to our phone.