Fake gamer girl, or so I’m called,
encroached on territory I wasn’t aware
was already marked by territorial animals
grizzlier than bears.
it’s rather bold, rather brave,
for the man whose closest brushes with death
can be reverted from a previous save.
They call these beasties gamers,
such strange animals, I’m sure you’d agree,
when I’m often heckled by vile little boys
not all of them younger than me.
And yes, I know,
as the saying goes, boys will be boys.
And I also know what happens
when you separate a baby from its toys.
But why is it I,
when playing on my own,
am branded the invader
when I wish to be alone?
And why, for that matter,
is there not room for me?
It’d seem there’s more than enough room,
when thinking digitally.
I mean, I’m playing games indie,
just like you said you wanted.
“MAKE YOUR OWN, BITCH!” you screamed,
like the whole internet was haunted.
So we’ve already done that,
embarked on our own,
established our own worlds,
but you know what you’ve sown,
A quintessential fact,
and I’m sure y’all’ll disagree,
is that you don’t want us to have our own spaces,
but to have your spaces us-free.
So you’ll test us,
with quizzes galore.
Doesn’t matter how we do,
we’re just fake gamer whores.
So what’s a person to do,
if they don’t fit your requirements at the gate?
What does giving a tantrumming baby what it wants demonstrate?