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Lives my friend, the gamer, a collector at core.
With consoles and cartridges stacked to the sky,
He claims it's a hobby, but we all know it's a lie!
A mini fridge styled like an Xbox so grand,
Arcade machines buzzing, all part of his plan.
With plushies and models, a hero's parade,
He's got every gaming trinket, a whole charade.
He's got games from the past, like artifacts rare,
A golden Zelda, you name it, it will be there.
He'll tell you each story, each pixel, each quest,
While I nod and pretend I'm not feeling distressed.
So here's to my friend, with his gaming delight,
Who trades sleep for loot in the dead of the night.
May your collection grow larger, your scores reach the sky,
Just don't forget, every now and then, to touch grass my guy.