In /ptg/ the markets flow,
Charts and chatter come and go.
But type those cursed, forbidden lines,
And rage erupts between the signs.
“Where are the Epstein files?” you dare,
The thread ignites with frothing glare.
“You’re glowing, fed! Quit stirring shit!”
A thousand anons all commit.
No answers given, just fury piled,
When you ask for Epstein’s file.
So learn the rule, stay hushed, stay sly,
Or watch the thread just burn and die.