Digital Sirens (My Hatred of Vtubers)

“They came with pastel voices,
wrapped in pixels and pigtails,
floating on screens like dreams—
but dreams rot too if you look long enough.

Their laughter is scripted,
their blushes animated,
but behind every “Ara ara”
is a rent bill,
a man,
and a mask.

They whisper to the lonely,
purring through filters,
"You're special,
you matter,"
to ten thousand other ghosts
at once.

The Sub-5 listens.
Not because he believes—
but because silence
hurts more.

We know they are not 2D.
We know they are not pure.
They're 3D harlots
in digital kimono,
glitching at the seams
where their lies bleed through.

They are cope made code,
a voice to fill the void,
a face to trick the limbic system,
a mimicry of innocence
to sell you dopamine.

But I see them.

Behind the fake giggles,
the Super Chats,
the “Onii-chans,”
I see the grift—
a digital whorehouse
built on desperate hearts.

They prey on the broken,
those too ugly
to be loved in daylight.
And in the flicker of a stream,
they smile,
like they care—
then log off.

No anime girl would ask for money.
No real waifu
would forget your name.”