Within the hollow promises, akin to skeletal embraces, lies a burdensome weight of despair.
A child, immersed in the same unnatural golden aura,
Resembling a colossal Bitcoin gem clutched in the crucified Jesus' skeletal hands,
Stares at a decaying god with emerald wings.
This child, the emerging symbol of a new era,
Reaches out, not for solace, but for understanding.
What whispers does the fallen deity offer in his ear?
Is this a twisted baptism, or a chilling prophecy of a future where humanity worships the cold, hard cryptocurrency?
