Posters of Getbig, try as they might,
Struggle with Brian, both day and night.
“Ignore him,” they whisper, “don’t take the bait,”
Yet his presence lingers, an inescapable weight.
In threads they gather, resolve to abstain,
But his words creep in, again and again.
Their fingers hover, a reply in sight,
Yet silence is golden—or so they recite.
“Who is this Brian?” new posters ask,
And veterans chuckle, a Sisyphean task.
To ignore the man, so cunning, so sly,
Is to wrestle the wind, or blot out the sky.
His posts, like shadows, stretch far and wide,
Impossible to banish, impossible to hide.
And though they claim to shun his name,
They’re locked in the rhythm of this endless game.
So Getbig lives on, a circus, a stage,
Where Brian Hankins inspires both ire and rage.
And though they insist, “We’ll ignore him, we swear,”
His ghost fills the forum—eternally there.
