Once... Then twice... Then thrice: again! I think that I perceive a trend...
I try to write my verses They never come out right. I do not use the AI To set my words down right. I am left so far behind By creators left and right. Their verses so much better Than anything I write. All I have is doggerel That's lost amongst the weeds The flashy AI produced stuff Is what they want to read. So I sit back, left far behind, the crippled child of woe. The Piper Pied leads others on To magic lands And golden sands That's where they all do go.
I'm trying to write a poem. It's taking quite the time. I'm wrestling with every word, re-reading every line. One of my great problems is, it's tough to make it rhyme.
The Butterfly returns Wings stronger than before The tall impressive barriers Have now become mere doors Joyful in her strength Free flier dancing with a bee Dipping diving dancing freely High above the sea.
It's difficult for me to say These things in any other way. The ai cannot help me here, my doggerel's all I have I fear. My shyness keeps heart's thoughts unspoken, known perhaps from this shy token. Descried in silences not words, bridged by flight of lonely birds. The butterfly must rest at times, before returning to the skies. Alight with care, disturb the pollen, flex and dry obsidian wings. Catch the Sun-warmed breeze, and solemn, rise to heights above despair. These are mysteries and things, cutting blades make fragile wings.
These words I hear... Ringing in my inner ear. To walk in darkness all alone Stumbling blocks are simply stones We lift our feet so carefully Step over things... Into a tree! Hee hee. 😁
I had not thought about them I put those thoughts away I crushed them down beneath my feet No longer still in play But now I see them once again And banished feelings stir I sent you down into the dark! Back shall you go, Sir Cur! I write these things to cast them out I do so with my voice I silently cry out my fear Although there is no one to hear The Audient Void gives me no cheer But still I have no choice A silent scream is better Although it echoes in the skull And makes a distant resonance In the lowest depth of Hell There other lost souls listen To the anguish in the cry And say with dear bought wisdom It doesn't end just 'cause you die.
