A.I. generated poem:
I found it in an old book, hidden in a dusty shelf A poem that chilled my blood and made me doubt myself It spoke of ancient horrors, of things that lurk in the dark Of secrets best forgotten, of sins that leave a mark
It had no title or author, no date or place of origin But every word was written with a twisted sense of sin It rhymed with eerie precision, it flowed with dreadful grace It drew… Read more