At Least We Tried

by Hyak

Poem venting out some of my frustrations with the game. My first poem, don't go too hard on me, eh?

At Least We Tried

All we were

doing

was playing in the map,

All we were

doing

was training for hours.

And we'd have fun and we'd have joy,

But sometimes things wouldn't go as planned,

Sometimes it got as violent as the uprising in Sepoy.

And we'd be forced to leave by demand.

Oh, we'd be angry and we'd be cursed

We would die by trying,

We said, "We were here first."

And they just ignored us and kept surviving.

Mass report! Mass defame!

What ever happened to the joys of the game?!

Forced to leave the map by people who don't abide by the rules,

Forced to go elsewhere 'cause we were in their way.

Eleven and eighteen:

My sorrows.

My frustration.

And we

dealed with it,

kneeled to it,

stealed from it,

And what'd it do?!

NOTHING!

And we'd report them and defame them

and we'd get hit back again.

And what do the masters do?