I’m an old millennial gamer, with hair turning gray,
Who’s honed his craft since the good old CS days.
They holler “He’s cheating!”—they whine, “It’s not fair!”
But my reflex is lightning, my aim’s without compare.

I may or may not be a smurf, who can say?
But you’ll find no hack, no hush-hush foul play.
My crosshair is hungry—it’s gobbling heads,
While others are baffled, flailing in threads.

Here’s one secret to share, though it’s sure to astound:
I strike with insane aim while wearing no sound!
No footsteps, no beeps, no frantic voice chatter—
Just me and pure skill—I scale each rank ladder!

So keep crying “Cheater!” while I leap with a grin,
I’m older, I’m wiser, and boy, do I win!
No wizardly potions, no conjured up code,
Just pure millennial magic—my legacy showed!