I see the sun go down.
And Rana, with her apples,
rises through the dark.
Zombies, Creepers, and skeletons alike
spawn in the night
to give quite a fright.
I stay in my home.
My sword in my hand.
I focus and listen,
I hear the spiders land.
Then, seven minutes later,
the mobs begin to burn.
The sun rises once more.
I know it's time again,
to mine some more ore.
Hey, it's me on an anonymous account nearly three years later.
ReplyDeleteIt was meaningful to see this poem again. Almost forgot about Rana. Good times.
Also there's this turd of a human next to me who won't shut up.