Ode To Picky
You came to me one day in a trade,
And told me how your old master played.
Your friendly smile, your winning laugh;
Kept me going when I needed a bath.
You held my hand while I dug for ore;
With your friend, excy, you found me lots more.
You made my fortune grow at a phenomemal rate;
More GC than I could use was on my plate.
One day as I mined, I forgot to take care,
And you broke on me; no hope for repair.
I cried and I wept feeling my loss,
When suddenly a messge appeared from my boss.
"Check your inventory, you may have a spare,"
The instructions I followed and I found you there.
Sparkly and gleaming, completely brand new;
My pickaxe was safe, I had a new you!
No pick could ever replace you in my heart,
But alas as time goes on I need to start.
Your fellow pick is balanced very well,
When I hit the silver ore it rings like a bell.
So, Picky, as I write these words thinking of you,
I know we'll see each other again, our love is true.
In the meantime, I'll have fun with another,
It may be your sister, your cousin or even your mother!
Ode to Picky
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