Evening light on a cracked-screen glow,
one last scroll before I go.

I found you in the restless hours,
when silence felt too wide.
Cheap laughs, bright little fireworks,
to keep me occupied.
But lately there’s a different sound
behind the catchy tune,
like lawyers talking over us
in some backroom afternoon.

So thanks for your decision,
for shaking hands with power,
for signing off on “trust us”
while the clock ate every hour.
If the deal means open season
on the footprints that I leave,
it don’t feel like connection,
it just feels like being sieved.

So thank you, TikTok, thank you kindly,
you made my goodbye feel clean.
If you’re trading all our stories
for somebody else’s screen,
I’ll tip my hat, I’ll shut the door,
I won’t beg you to be true.
You chose the profit over people—
so I’m choosing me over you.

And I’m not saying the other side
was angels in the dark,
I never wore blind faith like boots
and called it “just my heart.”
Influence is influence,
it changes names and flags,
but it always wants a piece of you
and everything you drag.

Still, it stings in a brand-new way
when you sell what you should save.
When “community” was just a word
they stamped on a grave.

So thank you, TikTok, thank you kindly,
you made my goodbye feel clean.
If you’re trading all our stories
for somebody else’s screen,
I’ll tip my hat, I’ll shut the door,
I won’t beg you to be true.
You chose the profit over people—
so I’m choosing me over you.

I hope the steady-minded ones
don’t stay there out of habit,
don’t call it “just the way it is”
and let the wolves just have it.
Maybe we learn to walk away
before the small becomes severe,
before our private little lives
end up public souvenirs.

So thank you, TikTok, thank you kindly,
you made my goodbye feel right.
When the powerful get hungry
you don’t feed ’em every byte.
I’ll find my songs in other bars,
in daylight, not in blue.
You chose the profit over people—
so I’m choosing me over you.

Evening light, a quiet room,
one last breath—then I’m gone.