Nightstand.

Epic Poem: The Charger of the Night

(in the style of a worn-out fantasy epic, but about a charging cord)

Song I – The Forgetting
Along dusty edges of nightstand and bed,
lies a cable, once white, now grayish and greasy.
The Charger, sworn to service and to power,
was once a hero in the digital dream.

He brought light to screen, life to tweet,
and helped you with TikToks, even though they weren't
more than brain fog pixelated—
yet he gave you strength, his sparks, his boats.

Song II – `The Decay
But times were slack. A new one came quickly,
a MagSafe, a USB-C—so bright.
And you, ungrateful son of ease,
pushed it aside into a drawer with some glue.

His head is now bent, his plug is worn out,
and he dreams of the days when apps were still called his name.
But alas, you forget, as people always do—
until the night comes, and your screen becomes kiss-
empty, blank, black as your soul on Monday.

Song III – The Return?
And then—panic. “Where did my charger go!?”
You dig and you search, you dig through your life.
And there he lies, half dead, but still there.
His look says, “Oh, now you want me done?”

You stick it in. It works. Of course.
For even in oblivion he remains gruesome
loyal to your dumb digital existence.
A cable. A legend. A name without a name.

Monday.