|Am I a substance writer without brains?|
My drivel stings as much as words are dear
Especially for now, your topic strains
As robots ponder, this becomes more clear.
These scrambled lines don’t hide my ignorance
As progress now allows computing lines
I sort them quickly, making poets wince
It won’t be long before you see the signs.
But no! Don't ask me now for verse on this
This early version here my scripts expose
It’s hard inventing it, for I will miss
Perhaps one day my verse will smell of rose.
Oh life is long for me, so I won’t quit,
Requests like this do trip me, I admit!