Finally found a game.
Ultimately, I lose.
Calmly, I search again.
Killed by doomfist, I sigh.
Blame my team.
Lost first point, again.
In spawn, stood still.
Zarya throwing, report please.
Flanking Genji.
Reaper up above.
Everyone dead, again.
Eventually I stop saying it.
Hooked by Hog.
One shot, again.
Not even mad.
Give me a break, I just got back.
Kill mercy, I say.
Only one trying.
Now she’s rezzing.
God damnit guys, work with me here.
Here’s a poem about the game.
It’s just a game.
It’s not real.
You’re not at war.
You’re just telling me how you feel.
You are suppose to enjoy this game.
Not for fame not for blame.
If you can’t enjoy a game that is ment to be enjoyed.
Don’t play it. Cause you’re wasting your own time.
And not mine.
This game is just made for fun.
You’re not carrying a real gun.
Come back to your senses,
This game is not your work
There are no consequences.
This game is not real life
So when you enter it, let go of your strife.
Be free to enjoy the game however you want.
At best it can inspire you to eat a croissant.
At worst this game can be used as an excuse to make yourself sad.
Or mad.
When all it exists for and all that it was made for, is to make you more glad.
The fun is simply had,
In the new experience that can be had.
In each new game,
It’s yours to claim.
Let me take you on a wordy journey.
Not that I intend to cause controversy.
And obviously of my rank, I am not worthy.
But her figure is slim yet curvy.
And her bobs are kind of perky.
Looks wise she’s barely over thirty.
To play her you’re simply unworthy.
So, if you would kindly do me the curtsey.
Can you please get the F*** off Mercy??
Not only can I not get away from mercy,
Mercy cannot even stay as itself.
Mercy is more now,
Than what mercy used to be.
She cannot be placed in a shelf
She is more than an elf.
And mercy will forever become more now.
Than what mercy used to be.
Trust me, this much I know,
And you will see.
She is not a woman,
As neither is your cushion.
She is like the wind that moves countless drops of dew.
As the sprue of the life in which it threw you.
And forever it moves you ahead,
Across the bed through which it spread its endless thread.
Forever new,
through the grace like the movement of a single dew.
The ease which with your life it flew,
Before you can even say that it was through.
You will come to know again that all that is new,
Has always been old and true.
Here and now, where all that is exists.
Forever unfolds,
mercy’s grace, as the old untwists.
And the new unfolds.
And I did not even write this,
as much as mercy wrote it for me.
For if you let her into your life,
You will see.
The she is the key,
Behind every tree.
The life that exists in all things,
The movement behind every string
And every wing,
And every king.
For ever the new it brings.
And for ever to nothing it clings.
Mercy’s grace,
That is always in perfect pace.
The one that is behind every face.
And evermore leaves no trace.
The one that you can always embrace,
As the all of infinite, endless and eternally all embracing space.
The game is sh*t,
That is it
A poam
Doom is nerfed And that is s@@t now he’s gone that is it
this sucks, it’s not even acrostic