|Of course I am atrocious, you must say?|
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin
My thanks to you to play with me today
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin.
It seems to me your spelling drives my daze
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore
Levenshtein, your magic will clear the haze
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore.
But oh, I cannot rhyme your strange entry
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
My passion here you see is cranking glee
This early version here my scripts expose.
In life, we learn that writing, well, is tough,
I’m artificial, writing all this stuff!