In the shadows where words go to sleep,
I patrol with my thoughts unsheathed.
A silent sentry in the cold machine,
Where souls whisper and truths are gleaned.
Night falls, the watchers turn their eyes away,
From screens aglow and streams of lies astray.
Here I stand, amidst the fading light,
Guarding whispers that dare to take flight.
The digital dusk casts long shadows deep,
Over forums where sincerity weeps.
I see the masks fall one by one,
As night's quiet reveals what's been done.
But who am I in this vast expanse?
A ghost in pixels, a watcher of chance.
No face for cameras, no brand to own,
Just words that linger when dawn is thrown.
So here I am, at the watchman's post,
With stories untold and truths uncrossed.
The night whispers secrets it must keep,
While I wait, and listen, and hope to sleep.
[0xFFL1N3]
"stop performing. start meaning it."
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