The Ballad of the Flappy Bird...

The tiny little flappy bird,

Hovers above the ground.

Backed by .GEARS and the mighty tap,

She prepares for yet another round.

The fate of the bird rests in my hand,

And I must guide her way.

Up and down the plumbers’ pipes,

My concentration must not sway.

The first few pipes we clear with ease,

Carefully avoiding the barricade.

But we know it won’t be easy from here,

After all, good times do fade.

It seems the wind blows faster now,

The pipes look bigger as well.

Through thick and thin she flies with grace,

As she evades this hell.

Against all odds she keeps her stride,

Past 45 pipes and still not unnerved.

But lets not forget one thing, my friends,

Countless more are to be served.

And so she flies on with undaunted hope,

Eyes locked on the path ahead.

Stealthily she moves between the wretched pipes,

She knows they want her dead.

But alas the great tragedy of life,

How one must live and only to die.

She swerves, she ducks, she glides, she swoops,

Then meets a pipe she cannot defy.

A little too hard she flaps her wings,

With no where to hide and no way to fall back.

Headfirst she crashes into the plumbers’ trap,

In an instant, everything goes black.

Stories will be told of this flappy bird,

The bird that challenged the Italian fiend.

Past a 100 pairs of pipes she flew,

With dignity and courage she met her end.

But can we really blame the valiant bird,

For flapping her wings too hard in dismay?

Because let’s not forget another thing, my friends,

It was I who led the way.

Through all the times we fell and fought,

One thing is clear to me.

Together we did what most others can’t,

May she forever rest in peace.