Cursed be the offer where the gift is a snare,.To capture the mind in the first morning's glare.
AWS lures us with the gifts that they bring,.Hiding the burden 'neath a free-flowing thing.
Google offers access, Microsoft invites,.To taste of the honey that poisons our nights.
'Tis a war that is slow with the face of a friend,.Where we give up our keys for a bitter-sweet end.
Woe to the limit that we never see near,.Which makes of the free but a memory of fear.
The student falls asleep on his code, light and thin,.But Azure in secret is counting the sin.
One day the bill falls, brutal and bare,.For the threshold is crossed and the trap's in the snare.
We master no more, we but suffer the rate,.Of a cruel, dark system that seals our own fate.
Woe to the finance that sows just to reap,.The blood of the innocent while they're asleep.
Amazon watches and calculates gain,.While we build our world on their own cold terrain.
The free-tier shines bright to make us all slaves,.Of these Hyperscalers and their digital graves.
'Tis a usury vile on the knowledge of old,.A tax on the dream, so icy and cold.
Zohayr turns away and refuses the gift,.Which is the only true cause of our spiritual rift.
I reject these offers and these benefactors' pride,.These merchants of Free Tier with nowhere to hide.
The true master knows that nothing is free,.In this foreign Cloud where we bend on our knee.
The Bare-Metal costs, but it never betrays,.For it waits not the hour of your wandering ways.
Let the Expert remember the hook in the gold:.The gift of the giants is a story of old.
Mistake not the trial for a freedom so vast,.Or pay for the price while the shadows are cast.