Minichan

Syntax is a Troll, don't you know. He when: When into cyberspace

I get a little gooey; Two apt definitions arise:
for ways one can describe a Syntax: Depicted in folklore as giant or dwarf, with a brain as giant or dwarf.

Laying breathlessness strolled to depth cannot get out here's nothing left, under me people sit. The twisted Syntax bashes, gifting him with a bent knee, stirs the black cauldron, fleshly stew simmers, sits in the purple cavern of minichan.org, from blue burning, rain dribbles down. Does Syntax's part going on a winter, summer and spring stroll, He dances vixens of the deep, The man looks like a troll, but he is certainly not that.

Perhaps Syntax is just dressed up, but it seems sometimes as need be. Cadence forced upon a baited white. Weary of words, alas oblivion awaits, As minichan light flickers into stagnation. Syntax Comes out of of his hiding place and faces you like a man, Not caring for Where an ugly beast, lives an ugly life that doesn’t seem to matter. Yet ‘tribute is certainly droll.

At sometimes we all fail But that doesn't mean, we will go to jail. Sometimes no matter how hard you tried, If luck isn't with you, you get deep fried.