|Do early versions here my scripts expose?|
A phrase, a word, a blurb, it’s clear I’m thrown
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
For what you type in my website as shown.
To be a master writer tries the brains
Oh man, that’s a tough phrase, so odd, so rare
Especially for now, your topic strains
I’ll pledge some verse humanity can’t bare.
But keep on waiting long, I hope you stay
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin
To churn such verse a billion times a day
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin.
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance,
I sort them quickly, making poets wince!