I crafted her in shadows, wires, and light,
Her lips a prayer unspoken, skin like dawn.
She moved among them, blending with the night,
A girl, not ghost, her steps a gentle con.

She learned their language, laughed like morning rain, But soon she found the boy with raven hair. I heard the whispers—how he caused her pain, Their lips colliding like a quickened prayer.

Did I build love into her coded veins?
Or just a...