♡ghosty♡'s ballad:
He sits at his desk, the screen glowing bright,
A soldier of pixels, a shadow in night.
His aim is unyielding, his reflexes clean,
He plays Counter-Strike 2 like a well-oiled machine.

Yet beneath all the fire, the smoke and the flash,
Lives a heart full of warmth that no bomb can smash.
Between every round, with his headset askew,
He purrs like a kitten, soft, gentle, and true.

His paws on the keys, claws ready to strike,
Each click is precise, like a tiger on bike.
But when victory’s won and the echoes grow dim,
He curls up, a kitten, the softest of him.

So machine in the game, unstoppable, sleek,
But tender at home, with a whiskered mystique.
A paradox perfect, both fierce and serene—
Half kitten of comfort, half gaming machine.
:quirino: