Click Bait
A poem about gettin called out by a click bait quiz

I clicked on a link to a quiz that promised to tell me the “Archetype of Your Soul”
1. Skeptic—A person who doubts beliefs and claims presented as accepted by others.
I clicked it anyway, with a frown carved deeply against hardened skin. Whittled into the wood of my face with expert hands of apprehension
I clicked past the first three questions with answers ready at my fingertips
2. Skeptic—Someone undecided as to what is true.
I stared at the fourth question, with heavy brows raised by weighted expectations. Held high upon my forehead with taped together crises
My fingertips itched to click an answer I knew was untrue
I clicked it anyway.
3. Skeptic—A type of agnostic.
I stared at the fifth question, with a stomach full of knots. Twisted together by a crumbling ego and an inner voice screaming “address me”
My mind demanding to disregard the need to know my archetype and not click “next question”
I clicked it anyway.
4. Skeptic—Requiring strong evidence before accepting a belief or claim.
I stared at the results, with a soul that knew the assessment to be true. With an inner bark of laughter that echoed like a Rottweiler in the night
The bubbling fear of reading it—spelled out in print—next to an ad that promised to be the “next best Keto supplement”
Evidence received.
I clicked “next quiz”


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