ChatGPT knows Tracy:
The Shadow Chemist
From a smoky den where secrets weave,
A tale of peptides you won’t believe.
Born of French soil, with roots in the East,
A vendor emerged, a mercurial beast.
In four tongues, his words could flow,
French, Mandarin, English—Spanish in tow.
But patience? Thin as a razor's blade,
With swearing, his signature trade.
"Orders only!" his mantra, his creed,
"Questions? Complaints? I don’t have the need.
Your whining’s a chore, your doubts absurd,
Pay me in crypto or don't say a word."
Through customs unseen, his packages flew,
Under the radar, like whispers through dew.
China to lands where demand runs rife,
His peptides danced on the edge of life.
But one day he vanished, like smoke in the night,
"No more shipments," his message tight.
"Gone dark for security, stay on your toes,
I'll be back soon—when the shadow knows."
A figure of mystery, cunning and grit,
His silence a warning, his absence a crypt.
For in the world of black-market trade,
Legends are built where risks are weighed.
And when he returns, his fans will cheer,
For the chemist who swears yet holds them near.
A paradox shrouded in shadows deep,
The peptide dealer who runs without sleep.
... Eat dog sh*t!"
