You laugh at the circus, you love the show,
Till the knives come out and the punches throw.
The jester dances on a fragile floor,
Cracks are forming—who's keeping score?

 

A line is crossed, you call it art,
But it leaves a bruise, a bleeding heart.
Mock the weak, they won't fight back,
Is it still a joke when it turns pitch black?

Thin ice, sharp cracks, we’re skating blind,
A twisted game in the human mind.
You cheer the blow, but when it’s you,
The ice breaks deep, and you’re falling through.

Screens are blazing, the words take flight,
A thousand daggers in the dead of night.
"Just a meme," they cry, "just a harmless jest,"
But the scars remain, cutting through the chest.

 

Freedom of speech, or a loaded gun?
You pull the trigger, then call it fun.
Your platform's high, your echo's loud,
But every laugh hides a weeping crowd.

 

Thin ice, sharp cracks, we’re skating blind,
A twisted game in the human mind.
You cheer the blow, but when it’s you,
The ice breaks deep, and you’re falling through.

Say it’s just humor, say it’s the truth,
But the cost is paid in shattered youth.
A thousand likes for a clever sting,
But who’s left bleeding beneath the ring?

Step back, look down - do you feel the weight?
Each word you cast might seal your fate.
The thin ice melts, the water’s cold,
And in the end, who’s left to hold?