For The Wow Widows Of The World (Of Warcraft) Poem by Justin Phillips

You find yourself glorified
through keyboard strokes
and lingo jokes,
tip-tip-tapping your way
through Ulduar-
you're hurting me
and you know you are.
Skill points, honor points,
epic weapons, epic gear,
while I'm sitting right here,
silently shouting,
eyes pleading,
spirit needing.
I'm out of mana,
can cast no spell
to capture your attention,
create an intervention
for your addiction.
Where is a healer?
I seek benediction,
absolution, retribution...
any solution...
Your frost bolts fierce
penetrate and pierce,
and icy veins run cold,
I'm really not sold
on your excuses,
when they're followed
by careless abuses.
I am an afterthought,
caught
in your Blizzard's blizzard,
a frost nova rock,
and you in your ice block,
pitifully unaware,
giving priority to strangers
and fantastical dangers
because this is where you are
cool.
But you are a fool.

Those reputation points
don't count irl,
and NPGs will never
love you
like I can.