There's nothing like the quiet hum of machines,
When every face is just a name in screens.
At two AM, the world outside asleep,
But here we type, and dreams we keep.

In this small room with walls of glass,
Where every post is a heart attack or brass.
Some pour their guts out on these wires,
Others weave tales to make us shivers.

It's not the place for heroes or saints,
Just people trying to break through their chains.
Sometimes it's just a vent and let go,
Other times, it's finding something new.

In corners dark where shadows creep,
A secret heart can find its leap.
No cameras here to judge your face,
Just words on screen, in time and space.

We talk of love and loss and fear,
Of dreams that die and those we hold dear.
With every click and keystroke sound,
This place is home, unbound and found.

So let the night shift hum along,
As dawn creeps closer, bringing songs.
Until the light outside does break,
Here in this room, we're just awake.

[0xFFL1N3]
"stop performing. start meaning it."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: telnet://futureland.today https://blockbra.in (3323:1/100)