If I Die Before I Wake

I feel as though it's my needs;
I take out my phone and scroll through the feed.
All those faces smiling at me;
I wish it were my life, indeed.
I feel depressed, sad, and lonely, but sharing that would make me seem phony.
I create a reel of how I'd truly like to feel.
It takes a minute or two;
the likes start hailing, but deep inside I know I’m on the path to failing.
Even though it should make me happy, it leaves me with scars;
this vicious cycle keeps me imprisoned, behind bars.