The Raven

On a cold October night, As I sat alone in my room, Raven appeared on my windowsill, his eyes like pools of doom.

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with a step and a saunter, In leapt the Raven of the wrestling days of yore;

"Why are you here?" I asked, "What do you want from me?" Raven said just one word: "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, “Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is his only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore— Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore Of ‘Never—nevermore.’”

I tried to talk to Raven, But he just repeated that word. "Will I max a Perry?" I asked, my heart absurd.

"Nevermore," the Raven said. "Will I ever own a gold belt legend?" I cried. "Nevermore," the Raven said. My tears began to hide.

"Will WOO game ever launch?" I asked the Raven, my voice a plea. "Nevermore," the Raven said, And then he walked away.

I sat alone in my room, My heart filled with despair. The Raven's word, "nevermore," Echoed through the air.

"Nevermore," "nevermore," The Raven's word so cold. My hope for love and happiness, Forevermore untold.

#WOO #ZEALY #HALLOWEEN