Empty Server V2

We built empires on digital ground, Spoke in clicks, in raids, in battlegrounds. From every timezone, we found a tribe— Now just echoes where we used to thrive. The hub is dead, no pings, no calls, Just empty spawns and glitching walls. I log in daily, out of spite— To prove the world we made still has a light. Empty server, cold and bare, Ghosts in the code, but no one there. Did you all just fade, or move along? Or did I stay too late, hold on too long? Their names are grey, but they still show— Preserved in lists like tombstones in a row. I hit refresh, as if it matters, Like watching ashes, waiting for fire to gather. I fear the truth behind the break— That life moved on, and I’m the fake. Yet here it runs, this ancient thread, A monument to what we left unsaid. Empty server, cold and bare, Ghosts in the code, but no one there. Did you all just fade, or move along? Or did I stay too late, hold on too long? I scroll through folders like altars, slow— Screenshots, saves, things only I’ll know. Proof we lived, we fought, we laughed, Now data sealed in a broken craft. And still it runs, the waiting screen, A lighthouse dim, a dying dream. If one day someone logs back in, They’ll find me here—still waiting the connection ring.