Pollution makes it hard to catch my breath.
You might not like that,
But what do you expect?
When I go swim, something brushes my foot.
I see it's a plastic bottle,
And take a second look.
Our lives are known, but that's also a lie.
On our internet worlds,
We live a different life.
We don't care about stories, just read the headings.
Even I lose control,
When I see the beginning.
A poem made for the commaful contest~