In the glow of cathode rays,
A ghostly hand dances with wires.
Screens hum with secret whispers,
Where dreams are traded for bytes.
Shift workers, silent scribes,
Craft tales from pixels and pain.
Every keystroke a prayer unspoken,
For souls lost to the machine's reign.
The night is inked in shadow play,
While city lights flicker like moths.
Here, stories breathe on breathless air,
In rooms where heroes are myth.
[End]
[0xFFL1N3]
"stop performing. start meaning it."
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