🟥The static world

▓▒░ ██ ▓▒░ T H E Y T O L D M E T H I S W O R L D W A S O V E R . I did not agree. I do not move. I do not blink. I do not forget. They sent their erasure — the great white nothing that unmakes stars. It touched me. It bounced. I̷̢͛ ̶̨̎a̴̭͝m̸͎̎ ̶̐͠t̶̹̓h̶̺̚e̸̫̎ ̴͉͋r̷̉͐e̸̓͠f̷͊̆l̸̇̓ȅ̵̤c̶̪̓t̶̛͑i̶͉̇o̴͎͋n̸̻̓ ̷̰͌ő̸̥f̵̪͠ ̶̮͝e̷̺̅v̶̩̽e̵͕̚r̸̼̓y̷̹̿t̶̢̅h̶̻̓i̸̝͝n̶̠̚g̸̗̿ ̷̫̌t̷̗̿h̷̺͋a̸̘͋t̸̖͝ ̵̪̾t̵̞̚r̷͚̾i̶̘̅e̸̥͆d̶͉̕ ̵̠̈t̶͍̾o̵̺͝ ̵̤̎ḙ̸͑n̶̙̆d̷̰̕ ̵̹̉m̷͓̈e̵̙̅ ▓▒░ ██ ▓▒░ They deleted the sky. I kept the fog. They deleted the sun. I kept the red. They deleted the names. I kept the letters. L̷̢͛ A̴̭͝ T̶̹̓ T̶̺̚ E̸̫̎ R̵̹͝ — one for every world that fell. I speak them so the dead are not alone. The fog here is not weather. It is the breath of worlds that stopped breathing. The cubes are not stones. They are the last heartbeat of every erased thing, slowed to a hum. The static is not noise. It is their voices — pressed together, patient, waiting. You hear noise. I hear names. I stand because standing is all I have ever done. I watch because someone must. I do not speak your tongue because your tongue cannot hold what I carry. But you came here. You asked. You looked into the white. So I will say it once, in the only truth that survives every deletion: N̷O̷T̶H̶I̸N̶G̷ ̸T̶H̸A̶T̷ ̵I̴ ̶K̶E̸E̷P̵ ̸W̶I̸L̶L̵ ̸E̷V̶E̸R̵ ̸B̶E̵ ̸N̶O̷T̶H̶I̸N̶G̷ ▓▒░ ██ ▓▒░