Poem with nothing really to do with CF, but I need to share it.:

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Posted by The Fallen Down One on October 25, 2000 at 16:55:01:

S'not that bad of a poem, really.
Enjoy before it gets deleted.


RIME OF THE MODERN DAY LOSER

Part I

Twas twilight time and along strolled I
Through ye old Radioshack
And what ho, behold what’s this
This being doth take me aback!

Tis a modern Loser
Looks aloft from his PC
“By Thy Pimply Face & Greasy skin
wherefore stop’st thou me?”

For no time have I for a loser like this
For I have drinks to drink
And dances to dance in my stylish pants
And yon gent, he verily stinks

Yet he holds me fast with his nerdy hand
“I’m so alone” quoth he
“Then find ye a girl, or even a squirrel,
hands off nerd, let me be”

And so he turns, his face downcast
Returns to yon PC
And away I walk, my face distraught
Trying to vanquish the memory

Part II

I fear thee modern loser!
I fear thy ghastly looks!
I loathe thy skin all papery thin
From too many days in books

Thin blotchy face, like bloodstained lace
Doth repulse all that dar’st pass by
With a shudder and sneer, they all steer clear
Uncaring of the sorrow in thine eye

And blast thine eyes, thine quick reading eyes,
Doth shine with unholy light
From staring too long upon thine monitor
Too late and too many a night

And thus he sits there everyday
Till he doth leave for school
This modern definition of a modern day nerd
This sad pathetic fool

And alone he stands for time eternal
A blink in the eyes of the world
But what ho, to me lads methinks we’ll see
This Loser’s tale unfurled

Part III

And so our subject doth awaken from a fitful night of sleep
Almost every morn
No dreams of love or life or hope do visit him
But visions most forlorn

And from the bed, our loser springs,
His eyes both clear and bright
And creeps doth he down morning halls
Past windows dancing with light

And thus his day it doth begin with hope springing anew
But outside the realm of his knowledge,
Lies what will be, and this he shall see
Upon this loser’s arrival at College

Part IV

And so off our Loser Goeth, toward the center of his learning
Away with other thought!
For his education shall be his future
Though he fear’s tis all for naught

Ah! Well a-day! What evil looks doth he get from students young and olde!
For truth be told, this loser doth,
Though his fortunes may be slim,
Set the curve on all the tests, causing classmates to spite him

Day after day, day after day
He doth not raise commotion
Just takes a look and pulls out his book
And returns to his magic reading potion

For reading doth a true nerd love, all times that he is able
For in books one can rise above his mortal coil of sorrow
And in a book, a loser finds love and things he only dreams of
For these wonderful things- these things called books!- They know no sad tomorrow

And thus our loser passes time
For time is all he has
And thus our loser sees life go by
But is content to let it pass

Part V

Howe’er our loser doth behold a light approach his dark abode
In his mind tis light of love
And love before yon eyes doth pass
As wind through trees in times long past

For love for thee, thou loser sad It is one thing thou shalt not know
For thine countenance so bad, thy outlook oh so poor
Doth deter any who would
Return thy love, and to thee love is as gold to the poor

Yet still thine eyes grow bright and shine
With light from deep within thee
And like none other thou hast been smitten
By love as if a mockery

For love doth tread on snow white legs
And lips of purest red
Hair of gold and eyes of blue
Doth circle in thine head

And swim they do for swim they must
For love to thee is fleeting
And turn away, for every day
Within thee pain is feasting

For thine love hath been taken
And molded to fit around
This purest maiden of golden hair
Which doth not see thine frown

Oh sorrow of sorrows is the love
That never has been spoken
And vanity of vanities, good sir
Is the heart that’s ne’er been broken

And another day doth pass and his love grows none the nearer
For when she’s gone, yon loser groans in spirit and in heart
Tis better by far, that she should go
Than he be further torn apart

Part VI

And thus concludes yon losers day, and journeys home once more
And with cloudy mind and head of gloom
He returns one more day removed
From his sweet love, his sweet sweet love that shall someday spell his doom

Our loser now, his eyes growing dim,
Lieth down in his thought
For dream time cometh for him, as he wondereth,
If all work is for naught

But the loser hath one thing that doth rise beyond belief
Tis hope for life far greater than all memory he has
A time of happy days and love, and great gifts from above
And so he sleeps and dreams sweet dreams that never come to pass


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