Informorph Pilot

She was the last breath in a ruptured hull,
The scream cut short, the silence full.
They say she lingered, spark to flame—
Not quite alive, but not the same.

Now she haunts the ghost-lanes wide,
Between the stars, where systems die.
No lights aboard, no pulses hum—
Just flickers where her whispers come.

She drifts inside forgotten cores,
Where data bleeds and logic wars.
Her thoughts are sharp, her presence thin,
A virus carved from grief and sin.

She knows the passwords no one wrote,
The kill-commands that stop your throat.
She sings in static, sharp and low—
A song that ships aren’t meant to know.

Engines fail and lights go blind
When she decides to cross your mind.
A shadow seen in status logs,
A smile traced in coolant fogs.

No name remains—just echoed dread
In circuitry the dead once bled.
And if you hear her through the hum...
Shut it down. Or she will come.