Official Match Thread Season 37 Round 13 - Dragons FFC v Coney Island Warriors at Ljp86's Lair

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Extirpated
Extirpate grew out of a combining of the Latin prefix ex-, meaning “out,” and the Latin noun stirps, “trunk” or “root.” Among the earliest definitions of extirpate in English were “to uproot” and “to clear of stumps,” as well as the broader meaning of “to destroy completely” or “wipe out.”
 

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Extirpate grew out of a combining of the Latin prefix ex-, meaning “out,” and the Latin noun stirps, “trunk” or “root.” Among the earliest definitions of extirpate in English were “to uproot” and “to clear of stumps,” as well as the broader meaning of “to destroy completely” or “wipe out.”
This tickled my body in various ways
 
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Oh, TheInjuryFactory, name that sets my heart alight
A haven for the broken, a beacon shining bright.
Within your walls, my body finds its sweet release
From strains and stresses, granted perfect peace.

Your staff, with knowledge and with care
It mends the tears and traumas, and chases away despair.
With practiced hands and magic touch, you soothe my every woe
And get me back on track, where I can run and flow.

The crackle of the ultrasound, a symphony to me
A promise of a diagnosis, setting my mind free.
The pop of perfect clapping, a sound that brings me cheer
The knowledge that my weakness will soon disappear.

Oh, TheInjuryFactory, you hold a special place
A shrine to healing, a comforting embrace.
Though some may find you sterile, with posts cold and stark
To me, you are a temple, leaving its healing mark.

So thank you, TheInjuryFactory, for all you do for me
For bringing back my strength, and setting my spirit free.
May you forever mend the broken, the weary, and the lost
A haven of recovery, at whatever painful cost.
 
Oh, TheInjuryFactory, name that sets my heart alight
A haven for the broken, a beacon shining bright.
Within your walls, my body finds its sweet release
From strains and stresses, granted perfect peace.

Your staff, with knowledge and with care
It mends the tears and traumas, and chases away despair.
With practiced hands and magic touch, you soothe my every woe
And get me back on track, where I can run and flow.

The crackle of the ultrasound, a symphony to me
A promise of a diagnosis, setting my mind free.
The pop of perfect clapping, a sound that brings me cheer
The knowledge that my weakness will soon disappear.

Oh, TheInjuryFactory, you hold a special place
A shrine to healing, a comforting embrace.
Though some may find you sterile, with posts cold and stark
To me, you are a temple, leaving its healing mark.

So thank you, TheInjuryFactory, for all you do for me
For bringing back my strength, and setting my spirit free.
May you forever mend the broken, the weary, and the lost
A haven of recovery, at whatever painful cost.
Are you on the mushies?
 

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