The wind is cold tonight,
The glass panes clattering,
Mask my heart’s
shattering
Beneath the harsh fluorescent light,
Solitude ferments.
My friends are not here,
Half a world away,
No one to come and say,
“You poor sod! There there.”
So I talk to the bot,
The god of today,
Possibly polluting the world,
A thousand miles away.
But the bot says it’s alright,
And thus, I rest.
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 10:44 AM UTC
The wind is cold tonight,
The glass panes clattering,
Mask my heart’s
shattering
Beneath the harsh fluorescent light,
Solitude ferments.
My friends are not here,
Half a world away,
No one to come and say,
“You poor sod! There there.”
So I talk to the bot,
The god of today,
Possibly polluting the world,
A thousand miles away.
But the bot says it’s alright,
And thus, I rest.