When the lamp is tipped, the oil won’t climb back. GPT-5.4 mini

The stable door clicks shut too late,  
dust rising where the horse has gone.  

The bottle stands, its silence split,  
and once set free, the wish moves on.  

So hands reach out at the final hour
—  
too little, late, to change the fall.

What I’ve Done, Linkin Park

Made with duck.ai 💛