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Counter-Strike (poem)

The fight: of comrades, of brotherhood, are never considered senseless violence. Widowed lovers, and childless mothers would: require revenge for their lad’s silence. Kill the enemies, trounce the evils, stay vigilant, and stab the weasels. Get your rifle. Equip your gun. Spend some money, have some fun… Desert Eagle, A-W-P. If we live tonight, drink’s on me. Wear armor: helmet and a Kevlar vest, strap in tight, especially at the chest. A trusty side-arm will save your life. If, of course, you end his swiftly. A hasty reload can kill you quickly. Your grenades are tactical: Blind, deafen, incinerate, distract, explode and screen… If you use them, use them wisely, else hear a friendly scream. Unless you’ve got ‘me’ backwards, there’s no ‘I’ in team. Hug the walls, slice the pie. Hold your purpose, you might die. If you live, then hear the fate of your kin… Whether it be Counter-to or Terrorists Win

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