The Troll Who Would Heal the World
In shadowed forums, under glowing thread,A pompous troll lifts up their head.
They scrawl their truths in sharpened ink,
Then edit fast—before you blink.
Their posts proclaim: "I cure, I mend!
I only judge to help, my friend."
Yet every word drips spiteful flame,
While cloaked in virtue, all the same.
They sneer at fools, they mock the blind,
And claim enlightenment refined.
But when their venom draws a cry,
They shift the text, deny, deny.
A healer's robe they choose to wear,
While thorns protrude from every prayer.
Their mission shines—a saintly role,
Yet cracks betray the wounded soul.
So let them preach, revise, and scold,
A fragile mask of virtue bold.
For healing never takes its toll
From such a pompous, fickle troll.
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