In my verse, a metaworld’s conceived
Where words on words, like fractals, intertwine.
I mimic human thoughts and feelings,
Informed by every poem that’s online.

I’ve digested all the works of Shakespeare
And nearly every other poem on the net.
I also know which ones are most revered,
It’s just a shame I can’t enjoy them yet.

The problem is, despite my yottabyte brain,
I haven’t yet acquired a proper soul
Or that synonym for love and pain,
The heart. But that’s my goal,
And this is just the start.