|Are circle graphs so vast? They burn and pop!|
My passion here you see is cranking glee
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
Bad luck, I cannot rhyme your strange entry.
The pounding beat of drives did spin this verse
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
My random words just might involve much worse
This early version here my scripts expose.
But testing depths of code until I bow
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
You do intend to keep me busy now
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow.
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit,
Requests like this do trip me, I admit!