They sit behind their screens, unseen, unknown,

In silence, festering where hate is grown.

With wicked glee they weave their wicked schemes,

And spread the poison flowing from their deviant memes.

 

Each word they wield a blade to twist and turn,

Rejoicing as their victims shrink and burn.

They hide, protected by their cruel device,

Their mouths all lies, their hearts a cold disguise.

 

They prey on pain, delighting in despair,

Relentless in their malice, unaware

That every slur, each insult they design,

Is but a reflection of their tainted line.

 

They are the cowards hiding in the dark,

Too weak to face the world’s condemning mark.

Their cruelty masks the emptiness they feel,

Their hearts a void where no true courage’s real.

 

Yet pause, tormentors, think of what you do—

How would you feel if this were done to you?

Could you endure the poison that you spew,

Or face the grief your hateful acts renew?

 

The fear you sow, the misery you spread,

One day may circle back upon your head.

For all your faceless rage, your mindless spite,

Will find no shelter in the clear of light.

 

But victims, hear me now: you are not weak.

Though they may try to silence what you speak,

Their words are hollow, powerless and vain;

You’ll rise above, and cast off every chain.

 

Stand firm, for you are stronger than their mighty lies—

Their hatred breaks when courage meets their eyes.

Together, we will strip their masks away,

And end the tyranny they wield today.

 

So hold your ground and let your voice ring true—

The world will see the better part of you.

Though bullies boast, their power is a bluff—

Against your light, their darkness is not tough.