Shall I compare thee to a stormy day?
Thou art more horrifying and more turbulent.
Rough winds do shake the darling threads of May,
And reportlessness' lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too violent the troll's eye shines,
Not often is his enraged complexion dimmed;
And every post from post somehow declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course,
Into endless black of spite untrimmed;
But thy eternal spammers shall not fade,
Nor lose their fill of entitled airs,
Nor shall they cease until are laid,
To rest, through mute or ban with able care.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.