Ctrl + D: Things Best Unsaid

There was a blogger who spoke his mind

Had his say, unwoke, too woke, or unkind

He often waxed derisive

And cut much too incisive

And trolled innocents to pass his time

.

Words sat, all queued up for reading

By God-knows-who had joined the feeding

Of maligners and their rotted ilk

Suckling and gagging on witches' milk

And left the defenseless bruised and bleeding

.

Yet he sent it on its toxic way

The exact thoughts he shouldn't say

Out loud to anonymous faces

Of others to put in their places

With lies that, forever, both travel and stay

.

What was he thinking when he was writing?

Where were his manners when he was sniping?

He's caught and the only way that he can come back

Is to explain that the whole thing was just a hack

And not some piece-o'shit stereotyping

.

The next time he's riled into passion

Tempted to engage in invective fashion

He'll block the words with the venom replete

And mouse his way over and click the delete

And take the injuries, out, instead of the cache, in

.

Reading, "This comment has been deleted"

Is much better than the way he'd be treated

If his insults still stood

And in all likelihood

His online persona, regrettably, is depleted