We sit and we 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 out our name;
We want recognition,
But it is always the same.
We give kisses and hugs,
And sometimes flirt;
In PMs (IMs) we chat deeply,
And reveal why we hurt.
We do form friendships -
Yet why, we don't know;
But some of these friendships
Will 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's 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 computer,
And to those we can trust.
Even though it is crazy,
The truth still remains:
There are Friends Without
Faces, With odd little names.
