A Take On Edgar Allen Poe
Once upon an evening dreary, while I played, both weak and weary,
On an ancient laptop placed upon my bedroom floor,
While I roleplayed, quietly lagging, suddenly there came a nagging,
As of mothers tongue a wagging, wagging at my bedroom door.
"'Tis some pointless fool," I muttered, "nagging at my bedroom door;
Only mom, and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly I remember, while I dealt with each clan member,
Poison elves in all their splendour massacring the weak and ill.
Lock on door for then preventing, parent rage from duly venting
On the child who unrelenting, sat building a huge phone bill.
From the rare and radiant moments that I get to play with Bill,
Ducky, Josh and darling Sil.
Then the lock it went a flying, setting me to wrath-filled sighing,
Inward burst a pan of frying, mothers arm and body behind.
"Cease and stop!" Called forth the witch. "Money wasting little bitch!
Perhaps you think that we are rich?" I murmured gently in my mind.
"But we are, oh mother dear. And shouting is just so unkind
I'm not deaf nor either blind."
Then she turns, backside reversing, out my door still loudly cursing,
I can hear her now conversing, with my dad over what's to be done.
I ignore my brothers scream, o'er my mothers vented spleen,
Turning back to keys and screen, back again to play and fun.
Now I game though sleep is needed, maybe later I'll get some,
Playing till the rising sun.
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