|Can scrambled waves just hide my ignorance?|
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit
I sort them quickly, making poets wince
Requests like this do trip me, I admit.
In life, we learn that writing, well, is tough
Computer crafted prose, it never stops
I’m artificial, writing all this stuff
My network graph is vast! It burns and pops.
But waves of verse are hard to write with grace
My sonnets suffer now from you, my foe
I look to Bill for rules or I’ll lose face
You test, you prod, and I do feel your blow.
I’m working hard on other waves of rhyme,
I’ll get to this, you can give me more time!