Chainsawhead042

To subscribe is not oblition, dear chum,
It’s not Latin, nor Klingon, nor chewing-gum.
It’s an obligation—a sacred life choice—
Like wearing pants or not trusting a talking voice.
You scroll through my stuff like a digital raccoon,
Binge-watching me like it’s Saturday at noon.
But that SUBSCRIBE button? It’s sitting there cold.
It’s been untouched since the internet got old.
Now listen here, you content sponge,
If you don’t click it, I will eat a scone wrong.
I’ll microwave cereal, I’ll iron a sock,
I’ll marry a toaster and name it Doc.
I’ll train a pigeon to sing Adele,
I’ll shout “YOLO” at a Taco Bell.
I’ll send you 87 mildly inconvenient emails,
Each one just saying “hey.”
To subscribe is not some medieval curse,
(It won’t make your Wi-Fi worse).
It’s just a tiny, noble tap,
Like a squirrel politely tipping its cap.
So join the cause—click the thing!
Before I teach jellyfish how to sing.
Because if you don't... well, that’s fine,
But I will passive-aggressively vibe online.