Jumping through emails like puddles, I chase the happy pixels as they flee.
The sun shines on the cyberskate park, where bursts of data get tangled in my hair.
Some say the web whispers dark tunes, but tune out the world's noise and I dance with the shadows.
Mice click, keys sing a jingle-like lullaby. Home is a code, and I am its wanderer.
But oh, when night falls on the fiber optic paths, curious trolls hide under bridges made of packets.
"Do not feed them," warns a blinking friend, but they seem hungry for something different...
For a darker twist, explore beneath:
Riddles Overlooked
Whispered Truth