We sit and type,
And we stare at our screens.
We all have to wonder,
What this possibly means.
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 our name.
We want recognition,
But it is always the same.
We give kisses and hugs,
And sometimes flirt.
In IMs we chat deeply,
And reveal why we hurt.
We do form groups
But-why we don't know.
That some of these friendships,
Will actually flourish and grow.
Why is it on screen,
We can be so bold.
Telling our secrets,
That have never been told.
Why is it we share,
The thoughts in our mind.
With those we can't see,
As though we were blind.
The answer is simple,
It is as clear as a conscience bell.
We all have problems,
And need someone to tell.
We can't tell real people,
But tell someone we must.
So we turn to the listener,
And those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy,
The truth still remains
They are friends without Faces,
With odd little names.
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