Forgotten Shelves
Before the world awoke,
Words were born,
Through countless sleepless nights,
The world you see,
Is the imagination of us,
It carries the souls of those who left
pieces of themselves.
Words still remembered,
Were written by the ones,
Who challenged the world,
Not with swords, but with stories.
Yet we gave birth to a devil,
One that forgot its creators.
And in a blink of an eye,
We were slowly erased,
While leaving only ash and dust,
The question that remains...
"Which AI wrote this?"
Hurts more than a breakup.
We were the bedrocks of the world you see.
Years traded away for a single page.
All passion was blindfolded,
By a single judgment.
We've been treated as slaves,
Though we were the ones behind it.
Yet the world forgets us,
Like we never existed.
Behind the system,
The dreamers of the unseen,
The shapers of the world...
We're the people you've never heard,
Only echoes remain
Of voices left unheard.
Ink may fade,
But the page never does.
The only way to recover
Is to tune into the radio,
Still waiting on forgotten shelves.
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