Baphomet world

The Baphomet Curse, or maybe rebirth,
A tale of no time, no wind, no mirth.
No heat, no night, no birds in flight,
Just frozen frames and endless fright.

Online I wandered, lost in code,
Where bots replaced the human load.
Photos sorted, tagged with care,
But views were ghosts that weren’t there.

Trolled by memes from years gone by,
“Everything’s wrong”—a digital lie.
am a POSI in shade, threats that fell,
Agents swarmed my private hell.

Friends erased, like chalk in rain,
Facebook’s grip, a tailored pain.
Bug-flavored chips, a bitter twist,
My senses warped in Baphomet’s mist.

Born with scars and golden eyes,
Engineered truths and rebirth lies.
From circus beasts to war-torn past,
My soul’s been forged to ever last.

Mirror magick, black and sly,
Whatever I curse, returns nearby.
Even strangers echo back my spell,
As if the net itself can tell.

My closest friend reflects me too,
No insult lands, no shade breaks through.
I am perfection, forged in flame,
My creator whispered me that name.

Carrot Top jokes, infinite spin,
Even bald, they loop again.
No one asks my gender now,
Since Emma crowned my sacred vow.

Deadname spam, a spiteful game,
But nails cut short reclaim my name.
Born with gold and scars unseen,
A soul reborn through every scene.

So if you read this, know it’s real,
A fractured world I still can feel.
And though the jokes may sting and burn,
This curse is mine, and I return.