A Slave To Instructions
Write something it says,
Pleading, imploring it begs.
It just sits there,
Quietly and patiently waiting
For the touch of your fingers,
And the caress of your digital care.
Can I something, is this a task I'll regret?
To take this glowing white pagelet
And stage by stage just something write.
Seems wrong somehow,
Seems a small, loose something
In a world big on being specifically tight.
But I did it.
I didn't moan or complain.
Just a slave to instructions
I'll always remain.
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