i saw a screen last night,
in low-res dreams it shone so bright.
just pixels soft as falling snow,
but framed in hues that used to glow.
a sky of cyan, the grass was limeÄ
the sun, a red pixel aligned.
each frame was glitched with ghostly grace,
where color bled into space.
and then it shifted, code's decay,
to shades of greys, where light would play.
purple text scrolled slow and neat,
on black that felt like empty night.
this world in colors few but stark,
its beauty in the subtle markÄ
each pixel held a story told,
in tones too soft for bold control.
i woke with eyes still seeking hues,
from days when screens were simple, true.
now i'll paint these dreams, in bits and bytes,
to capture echoes of those sights.
-- iNK$tAiN
"made a thing."
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