In the glow of the screen, where hours decay, Thoughts unravel, drifting away. Pixels dance in an endless parade, Trapping the mind in a numbing charade.
Endless scrolling, the rabbit hole calls, Echoes of meaning lost in its thralls. A carousel spinning, it never will cease, The brain begs for quiet, a fragment of peace.
Obsessions grow like vines in the mind, Fandom's embrace, a fervor unkind. Characters linger, their stories entwine, Reality fades, blurred by design.
Books and shows, a consuming embrace, Leaving their mark, their permanent trace. In fantasies vast, the real world is forgot, A paradox blooms, the curse of brain rot.
Stagnation creeps with a mossy touch, As neurons tire from taking too much. Repetition's hammer strikes the same beat, The mind grows weary, unsteady on its feet.
Yet deeper still, a shadow resides, Where illness brews and decay abides. Synapses falter, their signals stray, A silent thief steals thought away.
In laughter or dread, the phrase is said, A metaphor born of culture’s thread. From memes to maladies, its meanings spread, A tapestry woven where brain rot is bred.
But hope persists in the rusted frame, To nourish the spark, rekindle the flame. To break from the cycle, to rise and reclaim, The vibrant potential of the mind’s domain.
