We sit and we type, and we stare at our
We all have to wonder, what this
With our mouse we roam, through the
rooms in a maze,
Looking for something or someone, as we
sit in a daze.
We chat with each other, we type
all our woes,
Small groups we do form, and gang
up on our foes.
We wait for somebody, to type out
We want recognition, but it is
always the same.
We hugs, and sometimes
In IMs we chat deeply, and reveal why we
We do form friendships – but – why
we don’t know,
The answer is simple, it is as
clear as a bell.
We all have our problems, and need
someone to tell.
We can’t tell “real” people, but
tell someone we must,
So we turn to the ‘puter, and to
those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy, the truth still
They are Friends Without Faces, and odd