Rust poetry

Roaming deeper,
on a four-wheeled reaper,
oops, we ran over a sleeper.

Towards players we steer,
they see us drive near,
they're about to lose their gear.

We jump out and shoot,
the dead we loot,
then quickly hop back in and scoot.

Waking up on sand,
well isn't this just grand,
on the beach a clan base does stand.

From the roof, a player aimed down and fired,
for hours, he didn't get tired,
roofcamping is all he desired.

All his kills are the same,
he wants no challenge from the game,
shooting all day with no shame.

An attack chopper flew by,
and I'm wondering why,
I decided, to shoot at it from my roof.

It turned around,
and sent rockets to pound,
my base, until the building went poof.

Here my base stood,
it was made of wood,
my teammates just laughed, and simply said "oof."

A player outside claims to be prim,
but somehow I don't believe him.

He says he's hiding from a boar,
but a shotgun pokes through my door.

So my neighbour shoots him for me,
that's how I got a shotgun for free.

When I'm shot from behind,
the shooter might find,
that I can spin around and shoot back.

Why are you mad?
Are you really that bad?
To lose, and say that I hack?

The guy that we killed, had a gun that would drop,
here he died, to search for it let's stop.

Checking his body, it's not near his hand,
there's nothing around him, where else could it land?

We can't find the gun, as if a needle in hay,
like it sprouted legs, and has ran away.

Lost connection on a roam,
sleeping beyond home,
my body, someone stumbled upon.

I'm not having fun,
when I check for my gun,
and notice, that it's now gone.

Who was the thief?
I head home feeling grief,
from my gun box, another weapon withdrawn.

After a long wipe, the base was finally raided,
how do I feel, logging in to find it faded?

Thought I'd feel grief,
but instead, relief.

Soundly I sleep,
no more upkeep.

Come pick me up from Outpost,
I'm the group's shopper.

Why have you stopped on the coast?
you'll get a roast,
if you've crashed our only chopper.

A common truth about Rust,
a constant you can always trust.

A cheater in almost every group,
see how low they stoop.

Unable to win with skill,
without cheats, they struggle to kill.

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An article on Rust poetry has been added to the Rust Community Archive. And a second series of poems has been written:
https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=3359270181