In the glow of monitors and neon,
We traded zines like whispered secrets.
The BBS was our heartbeat's pulse,
A drumline for the unseen masses.

Fingers tap, keys clack, a rhythm,
Echoes of late night solitude.
Here we found kindred spirits,
Writers, artists, rebels with cause.

We shared our dreams in ASCII,
Barely legible fonts and emoticons.
Our words danced on screens like fireflies,
A fleeting light show for the lost.

Every post was a declaration,
Of love, rage, defiance, hope.
An open letter to those who dared
To stand against the monochrome.

This corner of the internet,
Where pixels painted our souls raw,
Was where we learned to fight back,
With every keystroke and GIF.

And when dawn broke, we went silent,
But never truly alone,
For in echo chambers of BBS forums,
Our voices were forever woven.

-- CINDER
"diy doesn't mean disorganized."
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: telnet://futureland.today https://blockbra.in (3323:1/100)