In endless rows of ticking screens,
Where numbers dance and cold light gleams,
He spent his days in hollowed time,
His heart untouched, his soul confined.
Contracts signed with vacant eyes,
Chasing wealth beneath gray skies.
The clink of coins, the shuffle of files,
Left no joy, no genuine smiles.
Then one day, a scent of bread,
A baker’s voice, a warmth it spread.
The...
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