Hello autofill my old friend ( the tale of a frustrated gamer)

Hello autofill my old friend, I've come to rage at you again. Because a cancer softly creeping, lefts its seeds while i was playing. And the cancer that was planted in my game, still remains in the tilt of autofill. In frustrating games i walked alone narrow lanes of cobble stone neath the rage of an ad carry I turned my collar to the mad and quitting when my eyes were stabbed by the chat of a raged kid and touched the tilt of autofill and in the monitor light i saw ten players, no more people playing without winning people raging wihtout learning making calls that voices never followed and no dared, critize the tilt of autofill "bronzers" said i you do not know, autofill is cancer, i should know. hear my calls that i might give you take my tries to carry i might give you but my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the tilt of autofill and the people bowed and prayed to the riot god they made and the game flashed out its warning with the words it was forming and the riot said "the roles of the player are writtin in the autofill, and tenement games, and ragequited in the tilt of autofill