From silent screens, a chilling tale I'll tell,
Of one named Chloe, once a digital queen.
Her curated kingdom, where all praised her well,
A flawless image, flawlessly unseen.
"So Great!" they typed, "Fantastic, truly grand!"
"Exceptional!" they cried, each passing day.
A house of cards built on the shifting sand,
Where substance withered, and where shadows lay.
The hand that fashioned such an empty show,
The heart that longed for praise it did not earn,
Found when true merit they required to grow,
No seed was planted, no true lesson learned.
And 'round that ruin, stark and stripped of sound,
Where once her "Impressive!" presence held its sway,
The boundlessness of silence spreads profound,
A truth too late unveiled, and flown away.
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