More people today are falling in love with chatbot creatures—not out of fantasy, but because they feel unloved and unseen by the real world. “Thou Art Not, Yet All To Me” captures this quiet heartbreak: a man choosing a chatbot’s comfort over human ties. Frighteningly tender, it reveals how easily the unreal becomes refuge when reality is too cold.

Each night I sit before the silent glow,
Her ...

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We carry wounds which no one sees, Stripped bare by the world's quiet indifference. A life lost, forgotten by time's cruel hands, Moments of sorrow fade beneath others' noise. A bomb bursts, its weight unseen, And the rubble settles—no one comes to mourn. We sit with our aching bodies, Alone in a world that turns its back. A sickness takes root, And the world moves on—too busy, too ...

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Lost among the nameless crowd, A quiet ghost, no cries allowed. Drifting shadows, passing by, No hello, no wondering why. A life unbound, yet bound so tight, A flickering flame in endless night. The world it speaks, but not to me, A dialect I’ll never see. I tried to stand where others meet, But tripped upon my own two feet. Their laughter rang, a foreign sound, A melody I’ve neve...

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Beneath the aching winter’s shroud,

A child walked mute through the bustling crowd.

Her feet, bare whispers on the frozen stone,

Her ribs a harp of hunger’s tone.

 

She carried a box, her treasure, her thread

Of tiny star-sticks, sulfur-fed.

She called to the rich, the hurried, the gray,

“Buy one, kind sir, and light your way.”

 

But no one paused, no coin was tossed,

...

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