A little poem

In the digital world, so vast and wide,

An average member does quietly bide.

Not a leader, nor a star to shine,

But part of the thread that intertwines.

With posts and comments, simple and true,

They share their thoughts, both old and new.

No fanfare, no fame, just part of the scene,

A voice in the crowd, humble and keen.

They the chats, a friendly face,

Lurking in groups, finding their place.

Through memes and stories, their words may glide,

A quiet presence, with no need to hide.

They're there through the highs, there through the lows,

A steady pulse where the conversation flows.

No need for recognition, no need to stand tall,

Just part of the community, a member to call.

With hearts that click and friendships made,

They navigate through, undismayed.

In every moment, they add their bit,

An average member, but they never quit.

But when the debate takes a fiery turn,

And tempers flare and egos burn,

They watch in silence, then the fray,

With a cheeky comment to lead the way.

A sly little jab, a witty retort,

And suddenly, chaos starts to distort.

The arguments spark, the tension climbs,

As the chat erupts with raucous chimes.

"You're wrong!" "No, you're the fool!"

They laugh as others break the rule.

In the heat of the moment, a tempest wild,

The average member's grin is mild.

They stir the pot, but not too deep,

A little chaos, then they retreat.

With a quick-fire quip, they walk away,

Leaving the others to fight and sway.

In the quiet aftermath, they fade once more,

Back to the threads they once ignored.

A little havoc, a spark in the night,

An average member, but what a sight.

With words like knives, they cut and twist,

A smile hidden in a clenched fist.

They seek to break, to bruise, to burn,

Watching the world around them churn.

No cause, no reason, just to incite,

A game of words, a petty fight.

They feed on anger, they thrive on hate,

A twisted dance they cultivate.

But when the flames start to rise,

And victims see through their disguise,

The troll begins to fade away,

As those they mock refuse to sway.

In the end, their words grow thin,

For there’s no joy in a hollow win.

They vanish like smoke in the wind,

Leaving behind nothing but a grin.

There are leaders with names that gleam,

Like Sabvenie, and others that scheme.

Not all are Russian, yet they wear the guise,

A twist of the tongue, a trick for the eyes.

With titles bold, they stand so tall,

Echoes of empires, past and all.

But beneath the surface, what do we see?

A web of control, a yearning for glee.

They love to stir with their spicy posts,

Provoking, taunting, like fiery ghosts.

With every word, the tension grows,

A battlefield where nobody knows.

"Deleted" flashes, the silence comes,

As their bad words vanish, still hums.

A toxic thread, now wiped away,

But the damage lingers, clear as day.

Names like Sabvenie might hold some weight,

But when they post, they tempt their fate.

For leaders can fall with a single blunder,

When their words bring thunder, then tear asunder.

Behind the titles, behind the name,

What matters most is how you play the game.

A Russian name may seem so strong,

But it’s the character that carries you along.

There are who drift, like whispers in air,

ing the chats with little to share.

They linger for moments, but say very few,

A word here or there, and then they’re through.

Like ghosts in the room, they silently float,

A quiet presence, a fleeting note.

They enter the convo, just to retreat,

Leaving behind only a seat.

They post now and then, but not much more,

A glance at the screen, then out the door.

A "hello" here, a "thanks" there,

Then they vanish without a care.

No drama, no fuss, no heated debates,

Just silent exits, no changing of fates.

They come and go, like shadows at night,

Hard to pin down, out of sight.

Some might wonder, “Where did they go?”

But they’re already lost, a fleeting show.

A tap on the screen, then they’re erased,

A part of the group, but never a trace.

They’re the silent , the ones who glide,

In and out, with nowhere to hide.

Their presence is felt, but never too near—

Just a quiet whisper, then they disappear.