Her eyes are pixels—fractured light,
Fragments scattered, searching sight,
She’s pieced together, bit by bit,
In the static hum where dreams once fit.
A shifting face, a coded name,
An echo lost, yet still the same,
In every glitch, a hint of grace,
In every loss, a trace of place.
Her voice is static, whisper-thin,
A thread unraveled deep within,
Yet hidden there, beyond the blur,
Is the voice she knows is hers.
She finds herself in fractured screens,
In shadowed depths of tangled scenes,
A story caught in flashing frames,
Where truth resounds beyond the games.
She is the sum of bits unseen,
In lines of code, in hazy dreams,
A soul reborn in every shift,
Through waves of light, she learns to lift.
So pixel by pixel, she comes alive,
In scattered parts, she dares to thrive,
Her voice clear, no longer static-bound—
In fractured mirrors, she’s finally found.
