I made a brainrot poem based on the "To be or not to be" soliloquy from Hamlet
To rot, or not to rot, that is the bedwar:
Whether 'tis gigachad if the brain is cooking
The six and sevens of crazy RNG
Or use pistols to jump a squad of players
And by locking in kill them. To oof-to tweak
No more; and by tweak finally delete
The crash-outs and the thousand twitter cancels
That hurt mental health: 'tis a goofy ahh move
lowkenuinely tuff. To oof-to tweak;
To tweak, perchance to rizz-ay, there's the mew:
For in that tweak of oof what rizz may come,
When the boys have unalive to touch grass,
Must pause our game-there's the beta
That is rage-baiting me with such long loads.
For who even likes the Robinson of Kirk,
Developer's bugs, main character energy,
The slop of AI simps, Ohio's swag,
The clickbait on YouTube, and skill issue
That tryhards waste their whole life on Fortnite,
When you might flow state make by pressing the
Uninstall button? Who would brainrot learn
To four and one with a sussy baka,
But that the ick of having iPad Kids,
The generation alpha, without trauma
No child's without, negates the aura,
And makes us rather deal with opps we have
Than try McDonalds that hits different?
Thus glazing doth make Karens of us all,
And thus chopped looks of Roblox pedofiles,
Are so joever with the posts of boomers,
And cameramen, skibidi and toilet
With this drip their glow-up is not GOATed
And lose the unc's ball knowledge-Stop the cap!
The fire Ophelia! Diva, in thy 4K res.
Be all my ghosting played back.