The Last Day of TikTok The clock strikes twelve, the app shall fade, Where fleeting fame and chaos played. The Chief Moderator, dressed in grace, Prepares to leave the digital space. No more dances, no debate storms, No echo chambers to reform. The messy battles of love and race, Will find no home in this closed place. Black men and women, scrolling apart, Seeking healing for the tender heart. Wealth, literacy, politics collide, A million voices, nowhere to hide. "Balance the chaos," the Chief once dreamed, But the platform’s soul was never redeemed. For every laugh, a shadow loomed, In viral fame, the truth was doomed. As TikTok fades, the world takes pause, Reflecting on its grand applause. Did it bring us closer or tear us down? Was it a circus or a sacred crown? Chief TikTok Moderator, bowing low, Turns the key to let it go. And as the app dissolves in light, A new platform rises, hidden from sight.
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