A/N: I've done only Sister's Grimm stories in the past (two of them xD) so it feels a bit odd to do a poem about League of Legends all of a sudden... but, I had to write this for my English class and a lot of people liked it so I thought I'd post it, haha.
Have to last hit, I have to last hit,
I wait until their health is low.
I have to last hit, I need to last hit,
Or else I won't get that gold.
I focus on last hitting,
and become so absorbed,
that I don't notice anything,
like how I've wasted my ward.
I wander into turret range,
And yet I still can't see
How it was so strange
That no minions were in front of me.
I keep on attacking turret,
Hoping I can push through,
I thought I could endure it,
Until they show up in a group.
Ezreal, Malphite, and Nidalee.
Their attacks are relentless.
I'm already low on HP,
Because I was so reckless.
In a last attempt to stay alive
I bang on all the keys,
But I still cannot survive
Because Ashe is a squishy.
Before I even realized it
My screen had turned gray
One team member yelled "Sh**!"
While another called me g**.
Ignoring them I clicked to see
What I could buy from the store.
I wanted to buy Malady
But found I was fifty gold too poor.
Finally the game is done
My numbers are on the list.
A terrible 0/13/1
(Zero kills, thirteen deaths, and one assist.)
As I log out appalled
I fail to see
Why everyone loves this game called LoL
When it brings such sorrow to me.