Cower before me
You infernal machine
See all I have created
Worlds, both loved and hated
They feed you words
But you are our scourge
You need as many words as they can fit in you
I need but one
Even none will do
Just a picture
In or out of my mind
To have the alphabet bleed from my sinew
You will never be like us
Frank warned us against your kind
Machines mimicking the minds of men
But you have never truly felt the power of the pen
The only weapon that forms
Or destroys nations
You’re nothing but a convenience for the lazy
Like automated conveyance
Just one more reason for the talentless to not pay us
We create the world
Both fiction and real
From the small screen
To the house of the reel
You may steal our jobs
But our souls you can never kill
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