These days... We are just a scroll, A flick of the thumb, A momentary gasp in a stitched-up reel. We are content — Not people. Not pain. Not prayers. I was on the edge— Not metaphorically, no. The edge where breath trembles like a dying flame, Where my blood sang a song of last verses, And all I wanted... was a hand. Just a hand. Just one human to say, "I'm here." But their eyes— Lit not with compassion, But the cold blue glow of screens, Stared through lenses. Angles. Captions. Hashtags. “#OMG #SoSad #Tragic ” I called for help— But my voice Competed with the bass drops of TikToks, The fake cries of prank channels, The clickbait of my final moment. I was dying, And they were filming. I was fading, And they were trending. And when help came— Too late— It found not a victim, But a viral video. No more good Samaritan. Only spectators. Only voyeurs. Only vultures with Wi-Fi. And now— I live forever in pixels. But I died in silence.