Bond to a system,
in vines of cyber veins,
running through the body,
a walking computer with no,
precise program,
but it runs,
swiftly enough,
to get the small jobs done,
for the larger ones, of life,
and update curriculums will be needed,
sadly for some,
the loading will take an era of wait,
to pass it by to a full bar,
breaking the universe,
micro by micro digital bite,
like an RPG,
make the insane,
that thinks the very creation lives,
in the palm of their hand,
sad in so,
strange enough dream or nightmare,
depending on who,
does not work like that,
in a fairer fine,
network of copper strands,
and cadaver stratums,
so little of that,
is just as so of it,
just as knowing how,
a tiny,
meaningless virus can turn,
everything acerbic of slothfulness and spiteful words,
of soft sinister hardware,
that is just a cold to some,
an battle to others,
to that,
that’s how it is,
the system is flaw,
let’s not overlook that,
shall we,
in hopes of wifi peace,
and no flame wars,
just on the wise,
unplug and sleep,
that’s all there really is,
in resting for the upcoming days,
do so,
unplug and unwind,
why in so,
some would ask,
to stop the virus from spending,
we could be able to move on,
to the future,
if the RPG world knows,
when to unplug,
and just rest.




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