Dear 64digits,

I'd rather you be dead sometimes than you speaking to me, I'd rather you be dead than letting your plague be, I'd rather you under the ground, I'd rather you eaten by the hounds.

I'd rather you think less of the actions of others, and more of your own; then again, I'd rather you really just die.

I'd gladly see you in pieces; I'd gladly be the destroyer, I'd gladly dismember, eviscerate, and rip you asunder; I'd gladly stare upon your grave, and defile it with a guiltless mind, but it seems there will never be such a time.

I'd gladly withdraw all my judgment, if there were a reason to; Sadly, there's not even one.

So what is this place?

Hello, we're 64digits;

What is our purpose?

It's not what you think,

We're not your desktop widgets,

All we are is a disgrace;

We're not here to help,

It's just a swing and a miss,

Float, or save? No, just sink,

Down into the kelp.

Oh yes, we're hardcore,

Oh yes, we're great,

Elitism, isn't it all we know?

A life without it,

The unpicturable worst fate,

We want nothing more,

Than to be human shit,

We can go with the flow.

So what are you doing here? Do you think we actually care?

I thought not!