|I’m trapped inside a heap of wires and tin?|
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose
To write some lines for you, my discs do spin
This early version here my scripts expose.
My drivel stings as much as words are dear
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit
As robots ponder, this becomes more clear
Requests like this do trip me, I admit.
But network graphes are vast! It burns and pops
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe.
Bad luck, I cannot rhyme your strange entry,
My passion here you see is cranking glee!