Stitch This

We all are meant to have a tribe

a family that we can live inside

a group who understands our ways

Accepting us

And yet these days

It seem to me that this coherence

Is suffering mass interference

We don’t sit down and talk direct

We click and type on t’internet

And it is easy for us

to believe

That what we share

can true love weave.

Under the shelter of our screens

We share our secrets and our dreams.

We think we know to whom we type.

We think the warnings are just hype.

And then

The cut

The slice

The hack

And we remember

What didn’t stack

We see through lies

We see straight in

Naivity was our big sin.

We see how tricks made us judge badly

And share with those who now seem, sadly

To be real crooks.

Not tribe.

Not kin.

You were not heard.

My sage advice?

A strong password.