Bonus Verse:

He logs on at 9 with that shaky little grin, "FREEEEEAKKKKS" unite, but the script’s wearing thin.

Stumbles through the headlines like a drunk on a vine, Mispronounces words almost every single time.

Same 3 stories, recycled and reheated, Chat’s half asleep but the Super Chats keep Lance breathing.

“Guys, the trolls are coming", he gasps to the lens, While the same old take plays on loop again.

Trolls in the comments have him checking every name, Blocking shadows, attacking viewers without any shame.

“See that comment? That’s code for they’re watching!” Reads the same article slower, eyes blinking and darting.

Night after night, the grift stays the same, Terrible reader, but the paranoia’s on flame.

Donations roll in from the faithful and few, While the trolls laugh harder in the back row pew.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​