In the dead of night I sit and stare,
At screens that hum with silent prayer.
A graveyard shift, an endless watch,
Where dreams and reality clash in a digital catch.

Messages come like whispers cold,
From souls who dare not be bold,
Behind their masks, they let it all out,
To someone unseen who can't amount to much doubt.

I'm just a ghost on the wire's end,
In this world where the truth is so thin.
The ones who reach me, reaching for help,
In darkened corners, where light once was well-lit and ample.

Some just want a friend in disguise,
Others searching for someone who might lie.
But I keep my tongue as sharp as it can be,
When everyone's trying to turn sincerity into KPIs.

So here I am, the night shift drone,
Tending the fires when the day is gone.
A voice in the void, or just another faceless tone?
It depends on if you hear me at all or not, I suppose.

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