|Okay, the truth is harsh! I gag you not?|
This meter sings, but lacks some content speed
I render now the fact, I’m just a bot
An algorithm tight and neat I need.
To churn such verse a billion times a day
I’m trapped inside a box of wires and tin
I keep all waiting long, I hope you stay
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin.
But pounding beats of drives do spin this verse
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
My random words just might involve much worse
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow.
My coding spews it forth and makes you snore,
For just that phrase, a poem is a bore!