Is it fate or algorithm that I found this place?
It’s neither dead nor alive,
Echoes of memories long gone still ring through,
The pictures haven’t faded,
The words haven’t corroded,
But there’s nobody to make new ones.
Rifling through the dust,
Feels like defiling someone’s grave,
All these stories,
Were never meant to touch my hands.
I glance around wondering,
If the owner will suddenly appear,
But of course they don’t,
We all come into this sphere,
Whatever we bring here,
Even when we’re gone.
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