Glitchfragile Sanctuary

Anáil

nathrach, ortha

bháis is beatha, do chéal déanaimh...

Standing inside

the noise, trying to find a quiet space,

Staring down the mirror at a fragmented,

tired face. The chemical need for peace when the heavy days collide,

Looking for a shelter where the nervous thoughts can hide.

Amara vara mara vara vara...

Dohaeris to the silence,

to the heavy, hollow room,

Waiting for the quiet to pull back the gathering gloom.

A soft, echoing (meaw meaw meaw) bouncing off the bedroom tile.

Shift the rhythm! Watch the paradox spin! I

hate that I hate me,

I love that I hate me,

I hate that I love me,

I love that I love me!

Saying something wrong, moving like a displaced ghost,

Not fitting the box they built,

missing the mark the most!

How do I build a life in a game where I break

the rules? Scared of running out of safety,

cornered by social tools!

Anáil nathrach! Amara vara mara!

Will they deem me unworthy,

too foreign, too much to hold?

Hiding in self-gentleness while the winter weather's cold!

(meaw meaw meaw) in a high-speed digital shriek,

While the walls of the simulation start to bend and leak!

Gotta stay present, gotta hold the fragile line,

Even when the matrix says that nothing here is fine.

Building a sanctuary out of my own gentleness and grace,

Because the world outside is cold,

but I deserve a place.

Anáil nathrach, ortha bháis is beatha,

do chéal déanaimh. Amara vara mara vara vara.

Dohaeris.

(meaw

meaw meaw) resting back in the quiet,

bruised, breathing dark.

Absolute Suno-safe compliance. Absolute emotional integrity.

Tara, Captain Quinn, and the master production crew.

(clean digital chime

fading into warm professional tape hiss)