But deep beneath the cobblestones of "Truth,"A dark and jagged erratum begins to leak,A blemish on the world’s linguistic youth,That makes the very foundations thin and weak.It is a typo in the code of breath,A stutter in the rhythm of the heart,A shadow that portends a second death,And tears the fabric of the dream apart.A "Not" where there should be a "Yes" or "Be,"A void where meaning should have taken root,It spreads its rot through every living tree,And poisons every hanging, golden fruit.The Glitch is hungry, silent, and profound,Corrupting all the newly-hallowed ground.
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