I ain't a tank. I ain't a zerker.
No Bandos plate. No welfare worker.
No claws, no AGS to flash—
Just dragon darts and bags of cash.
1 def, real clean. No fakes.
I risk my stack for savage stakes.
No vengeance tricks, no hybrid spam—
Just four-tick death behind a cam.
Catch me north of Edge in chaps,
Where mains get dropped mid-eat, no gaps.
They don't even type, they just collapse—
Double Dbow spec, delete the map.
Darts tap once—then surgepot hits,
Spec bar gone, and they throw fits.
"Wtf was that?" they cry,
Screenshot key, another fry.
Or maybe I pull out dragon knives,
Quick little bleeds that end whole lives.
You eat too slow? You try to tank?
Ballista lands and drains your bank.
No strength cape waves, no silly flex,
I don't need max hits to earn respect.
Just skill, just tick, just KO clip—
You miss one brew and lose your trip.
Let them grind in raids all night,
I'll stack three kills before they kite.
Because while they chase that PvM glow...
I build for blood.
I build for bow.
YOU ARE READING
ChatGPT Poetry
PuisiA tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital ignorance, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of the cosmos, and wher...
