Their peering eyes sit at the window sill- Looking in they get their thrill- A mother's brimming mess they are still- Trolling HP gives them their fill- Their calling card speaks ill- Of good poets swallowing their bitter pill- Eliot needs to stop this unwanted chill- Of trolls riding the thumbs down, drill- Their actions take a good community through the mill- And ****** if I am going to watch the blades spill-
Logan Robertson
3/19/2018
When many voices speak up it should shake the tree. I write today, inspired by all the ones carrying a torch.