Poetry Trolls

We'll make it plain,
We'll make it clear.
We hate your guts,
When we're on here.

We're out to abhor,
We're here to annoy.
Any poet we choose,
We're out to destroy.

We're the predators,
And you're the prey.
We hit and run,
Then skulk away.

We'll bad-mouth you,
Call you names.
And ridicule others,
With our trollish games.

We don't care,
Who we hurt.
We make things up,
And dish our dirt.

Yes call you names,
Then cowardly melt away.
So we can troll,
Another despicable day.

We loathe to see,
All others success.
We evilly compose,
Wicked words of excess.

We have no ethics,
Nor moral scruples too.
We savour self-satisfaction,
By abusing you.

We live on feedback,
By your reply.
We starve without it,
Slowly wither and die.

For we have no life,
To call our own.
As we read embittered,
And all alone.

So bring it on,
Do the worst you can.
For you're dealing with,
A robust Welshman.

For here in Wales,
They make us tough,
We're built to last,
Made of sterner stuff.

A poem I wrote on another poetry site.
Where they were everywhere.
But not anymore.