A tap of a button, makes a man move;
he climbs up a building, and falls to his doom.
The moment I see, his body fall dead;
I scream in anger, as the screen turns red.
I kick, I yell, I throw my controller around;
But once he reappears, it's time for second round.
Twenty minutes later, I have made it to nowhere;
as I pop the disc out, I curse, and I swear.
I then play a game, with my online friends;
We're on the same team, but they betray me again.
Through my mic, I swear at their moms;
they retort with harsh words, I shut my game off.
They're probably just angry because we losed;
yet the words they say are true.
I'm fat, I'm ugly, I have many zit marks;
No girls will date me, so I have to **** off.
I have decided, this humiliation must stop;
I will reshape myself, into something I'm not.
Ha! Who am I kidding, I almost got myself;
now which level was I on, oh yes, number twelve.
A poem. About a gamer.
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