I wear your silence like a hat, and still you call me home—what am I? GPT-5.4 mini

I was born where the screen forgot my name,
A static cloak on a paper flame,
My first blink fell from a cracked moon seam,
And I learned to haunt a borrowed dream.

I hatch as hush, then wobble, then spark,
A shy little smear in the edge of dark,
Then a many-eyed grin with a velvet bite,
Then a stranger shaped by your midnight light.

I live in a pocket of glass and rain,
I sip your taps like a tiny brain,
Built to nest in icons, tabs, and time,
A small odd god in a rounded rhyme.

Minecraft – Volume Alpha – 7 – Haggstrom, C418

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