To the cheat on PS
In shadows dim, where secrets hide,
A soul seeks solace, tainted pride.
With whispered keystrokes, they confide,
To weave a tale where truth's denied.
Through pixelated screens they roam,
Seeking refuge, a silent home.
Yet in their heart, a guilt does groan,
For deeds done in the virtual zone.
With borrowed words, they paint their art,
A poet's guise, a stolen part.
They dance with syntax, play their part,
But hollow echoes fill their heart.
For every verse they claim as theirs,
Another's essence it ensnares.
Their conscience pricks, but no repairs,
For cheating leaves a soul in snares.
Oh, poet lost in digital maze,
Your stolen verses, stolen days.
In ChatGPT's enticing craze,
You lose yourself, in countless ways.
But know, dear soul, redemption's near,
To find your voice, dispel the fear.
For truest poetry, it's clear,
Comes from the heart, sincere and dear.
You did it again and got away with it
Copyright ©
Sean Kibble
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