Who are you calling a loser?
I mean, who are you in the first place?
Your name means nothing to me.
Like your poetry, you are a waste of space.

First, let's look at your description,
I'll peer mirror.
Now from looking at your appearance,
the picture is clearer.

You've been beaten and abused,
and probably discarded
like the tissue
I used after I sharted.

You've got cauliflower ears,
and probably a pizza face.
You belong in Celidon,
because that's the pizza place.

Speaking of Celidon,
I put Gurn in a gurney,
If you want one on one, Ellen,
you can face me at the 10 year anniversary tourney.

Skasha you better back up your words,
I bet the only things you can kill
are Caanae Spiders
and blank-eyed idlers.

If you think you can come up against me
You got some big shoes to fill.
I kill you and your whole crew,
with my eyes leave you evil, dead.
Then I'll animate your corpse like the evil dead.

I'll curse you with the gypsy, watch your fleas spread.
Then switch to wytch, swiftcurse and softlock, end with behead.

You thought this poetry game was over,
lost and far gone.
Now you got called out,
and it's time to respond.

Penned by my hand on the 17th of Solis, in the year 12 AM.