Tapping, clicking posting through veils of anonymity,
casting shadows where the least of these silently reside,
Scrolling and trolling, amplifying muted cries,
trolling engagement through a desolate, barren land.
Who are the least of these, the marginalized?
The tortured souls, victims of casual cruelty.
Why do they hunger? Why do they thirst?
It doesn't matter as long as we're first
To mock their hunger and shame their thirst.
Cruelty's the game, trending anger results.
Strangers are shunned and nakedly exposed,
The sick mistreated and the imprisoned ignored.
These victims, real people; some even have souls,
Trolls target and mock in the most pious tones
Bashing and trashing the least of these
Shredding self-worth sharp to the core.
True character casts light on how we treat others,
The naked, the sick, the poor in despair.
Let's welcome the stranger, ease burdens, let's share,
Show joy in our duty to uplift one another.
I like to write occasionally about the faith I was taught. If you like this, check out some other poems on similar themes.
In a space where “cruelty’s the game,” how do we break the cycle? What does real compassion look like when filtered through a screen?
Share your thoughts in the comments.
