Let me create a poem displaying my best efforts...

A game I queue in the afternoon rush
For I am overlooked and unloved by my crush
One round goes by, with a kill in the pocket and 4 enemys still stand
It seems as if I've gotten the short-hand
I plead to my team mates to formulate a game plan
My team mate speaks aloud for all to hear
"I'm playing from the parking lot of Mc'Donalds, in a van"
I think to myself how couldn't this be rare
it seems as if im always behind the eight ball
I predicted my team mate going 0-15...
How there is nothing I cannot foretell
call him a marketing genius the way there's nothing he cant sell