Alas poor invites stood dead and dying
I never did find you homes, homes
Your anthems of MEGA KILL and TRIPLE KILL
Were never heard
Your triumphs and failures never transmitted
Vessels of hours of curious error; biting frustration
You are little cogs never inserted into the machine
My heart
My heart aches for you, little cogs
Unused and never given
Your virtual value like endless grooms on altars never married
You lie there; rows upon rows of my own failures
Symbols of people who could have played but never did
The failure is mine, little keys
Dota 2 is a vortex, and I am afraid of your power
My Steam friend list is inadequate to purpose:
I tried to find you places, but they heard about All Chat
Before the ban system
They never wanted you
They were afraid of the 'uninstall': the looming 'uninstall' request
The unspoken 'uninstall' of teammates
You stare.
All lined up
In my Steam inventory
Rows and rows and row and rows
Deep set in grey-black
Your little red logos inset on headstones
The Unknown Players
And not long before you disappear: forever
Never having fulfilled your duty
You will never bring someone joy
Or crushing defeat
You will never teach anyone their Terrasque recipe
Or bring together voices in a lobby for long nights, short mornings
You are finished now.
You are finished, little cogs.
You are free.
Dota 2 is free.