Original Post
[Wri] Toribash Poem: Staff? More Like Wooden Rod!
This documentary based off of real events.
Please be considerate with your comments and ratings.
I remember back in the day
When mwah used to say:
'Stop making meme threads'
'What is this to you, a game?'
I was ashamed for a while,
and put on a fake smile.
I forgot who I was,
The boring posts compiled.
I faded into obscurity,
With nowhere to run.
I stressed over impurities,
My habits became undone.
Thompson Submachine Gun.
I met a peculiar man
Who ran a stream.
He had many fans,
Their faces smelled of cream.
He told me of a land,
Filled with 512 joints.
His content was bland,
I couldn't see the point.
The next man was stranger than you'd think,
He was called many things,
But usually Sparkles The Twink.
He ran a group called vibe.
It was full of retards,
he lead it with all his pride.
How could I forget mwah?
He was there from the start,
Shining like a star.
Pets big car?
Drives big dog!
His house?
Jafar.
The next man was quite corrupt.
Many threads would cover him,
But his end was abrupt,
Still three dongers deep in that firetruck.
He lived in suburbia,
Always Oblivious.
He talked shit about Serbia,
Now no longer with us.
Out of everyone I met,
There was one who stood out.
The one called ed.
He never wronged me,
And stayed true to his word.
He put up with edgy teens,
His kindness was absurd.
The next man was quite the opposite.
He used a wooden rod himself,
Used it for magical tricks.
To him, I lost my best friend.
My emotions still strong,
My heart will not mend.
UNBAN DONGHERE, HE DID NOTHING WRONG
SHOUTOUT TO ARCTIC, THE ONLY STAFF MEMBER WHO ISN'T A ROD
Please be considerate with your comments and ratings.
I remember back in the day
When mwah used to say:
'Stop making meme threads'
'What is this to you, a game?'
I was ashamed for a while,
and put on a fake smile.
I forgot who I was,
The boring posts compiled.
I faded into obscurity,
With nowhere to run.
I stressed over impurities,
My habits became undone.
Thompson Submachine Gun.
I met a peculiar man
Who ran a stream.
He had many fans,
Their faces smelled of cream.
He told me of a land,
Filled with 512 joints.
His content was bland,
I couldn't see the point.
The next man was stranger than you'd think,
He was called many things,
But usually Sparkles The Twink.
He ran a group called vibe.
It was full of retards,
he lead it with all his pride.
How could I forget mwah?
He was there from the start,
Shining like a star.
Pets big car?
Drives big dog!
His house?
Jafar.
The next man was quite corrupt.
Many threads would cover him,
But his end was abrupt,
Still three dongers deep in that firetruck.
He lived in suburbia,
Always Oblivious.
He talked shit about Serbia,
Now no longer with us.
Out of everyone I met,
There was one who stood out.
The one called ed.
He never wronged me,
And stayed true to his word.
He put up with edgy teens,
His kindness was absurd.
The next man was quite the opposite.
He used a wooden rod himself,
Used it for magical tricks.
To him, I lost my best friend.
My emotions still strong,
My heart will not mend.
UNBAN DONGHERE, HE DID NOTHING WRONG
SHOUTOUT TO ARCTIC, THE ONLY STAFF MEMBER WHO ISN'T A ROD
Last edited by Arctic; Mar 29, 2016 at 11:49 PM.
We've been emancipated from mental slavery, that's a memorial for Ferb.
Snap Phineas' neck and kick that triangle to the curb.
Ferb, the realest child to ever live in the suburbs.
Ferb, the man the staff admire.
Ferb, he'll scorch your dignity with a lighter.
Ferb, reppin' the gang though.
Ferb, expanding the cash flow.
Ferb, venture through poverty, his main antidepressant is dope.
Heroin flowing through his veins and a needle in his arm, you'd think his neck was in the rope.
Baljeet, the turban Ferbin' swervin' boy.
Baljeet, has the rocket blastah in his pocket, take a chunk out of your eye socket.
Stare into your soul like a film noir detective with a locket.
When we tell you our collection of fine china was ruined, just know that Pimp dropped it.
The ball has been set loose.
Heaven told us to ride upon the fruit juice noose caboose.
Snap Phineas' neck and kick that triangle to the curb.
Ferb, the realest child to ever live in the suburbs.
Ferb, the man the staff admire.
Ferb, he'll scorch your dignity with a lighter.
Ferb, reppin' the gang though.
Ferb, expanding the cash flow.
Ferb, venture through poverty, his main antidepressant is dope.
Heroin flowing through his veins and a needle in his arm, you'd think his neck was in the rope.
Baljeet, the turban Ferbin' swervin' boy.
Baljeet, has the rocket blastah in his pocket, take a chunk out of your eye socket.
Stare into your soul like a film noir detective with a locket.
When we tell you our collection of fine china was ruined, just know that Pimp dropped it.
The ball has been set loose.
Heaven told us to ride upon the fruit juice noose caboose.
Last edited by Orbus; Mar 29, 2016 at 09:53 PM.
Reason: The North Star
Shaken Baby Syndrome
