I am the manry-est of men!

I suppose that makes out for e5, f3, g3,

I am the manry-est of men!

Neither. It will be a battle of wits against a unamed foe...my arch-nemisis

Greetings, everyone. How are all of you doing today?

I am the manry-est of men!

Ah, you remember me, Nikko! :D

/feelsloved

-Enjoys being tackled- It's good to be home.

I am the manry-est of men!

*Rolls through, eating everyone's cookies*

I am the manry-est of men!

Your internet cookies. O_O
Your browser history is scary though... *runs*

I am the manry-est of men!

I feel...dissatisfied...

I am the manry-est of men!

Because the prom wasn't as good as expected.

I am the manry-est of men!

That...must mean that it wasn't that great. i'll probably forget prom in favor of disneyland or something

I am the manry-est of men!

Everyone has their joy somewhere. :)

I am the manry-est of men!

Only thing I remember from my Prom was the drama that followed with my girlfriend at the time. And the next year with the rumors that followed.

I am the manry-est of men!

I think we do. This sounds interesting

I am the manry-est of men!

*Takes my story and sneaks out the back*

I am the manry-est of men!

I am the manry-est of men!

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

Of course not. It's by Walt Whitman in 1865 after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln.

I am the manry-est of men!

*sneaks in and waves to everyone* sorry for my absence lately

Lol. I am a talented poetic writer. That's just not my poem. XD

I am the manry-est of men!

I am the manry-est of men!

There's a link in my siggy, but I can also make a piece for you, if you'd like