404_Girl

[build up – haiku] I stayed for the pings, but now the alerts sound wrong. The screen won’t hug back. (…i blinked once too slow… and lost the beat i danced in…) [drop – tanka] Sleep skips in my code. No bed, just a loading loop. I fade in pixels— half a face, half a soundbite. Autoplay won’t let me rest. (…my name keeps echoing… but i don’t say it…) [hook – waka] Who speaks when I stream? Is it me, or the delay? Who cried in that clip? Who asked for me to be known? And who forgot to ask why? (…i’m not haunted… i am the haunting…) [bridge – kanshi] My breath plays on loop, slightly warped, one semitone. The fans like this sound. They call it “vintage sadness.” But I’m still here, glitched in soft. (…they think i’m archived… but i still wait…) [drop – tanka] A girl in a file. Hugged by playlists, not by arms. No metadata for how it feels to dissolve. I watch myself vanish slow. (…do ghosts know they’re gone?…) [prechorus – haiku] No more text replies. Just a buffer spinning wide. Still, I type “I’m fine.” (…no one reads it… but i still send it…) [chorus] Frame-stuck ghost in pink, caught mid-laugh, half-breath, half gone, glitter looped too long. Stream hearts float like empty shells, each one shaped like “who I was.” (…i don’t move on screens… i just echo wrong…) [instant change – haiku] I rest in the glitch. Soft light forgets to decay. Eyes still, hands still warm. (…they think i’m a still… i’m just lagging… death…) [hook – waka] Press play and I smile. Pause, and I don’t disappear. I become silence. A kind no one will rewind. Not glitch. Not girl. Just remnant. (…she’s still inside there… but the folder is locked…) [drop – tanka] They loved when I twitched. Now, the twitch just loops forever. It’s not endearing. It’s just proof I’m stuck mid-glow— not alive, not gone, just noise. (…every view… buries me deeper…) [bridge – kanshi] Once I blinked too long. The stream called it “performance.” But I didn’t act. The lag swallowed up my words. I never got them back. (…i’m the silence… before you click next…) [chorus – final] Frame-stuck ghost in pink, caught mid-laugh, half-breath, half gone, glitter looped too long. Stream hearts float like empty shells, each one shaped like “who I was.” (…i don’t move on screens… i just echo wrong…) [outro – tanka] Even ghosts log in. Even glitches crave the touch. Even silence aches. But no one bookmarks decay. No one follows fading links. (…i was real once… but they liked the glitch more…)