Note: This was an attempt to voice my feelings towards a particularly frustrating and tiresome part of something I had to do about a few weeks ago. Wrote it on a piece of rough paper while the sun was shining in brightly through the window as I stood near one of the machines in order to collect some data. Never got to finish it though...
There was once a girl who was *preppy
Her life was anything but crappy,
But some folks came down
An ugly blue they painted the town,
And she ceased being happy.
For two years they made her do stuff
Sadly she could never pull a *bluff,
Though she tried her best
She could only detest,
And occasionally wipe a tear on her cuff.
Sometimes things were smooth
Like the enamel of her tooth,
And then comes a strange request
That makes her go on a quest,
For a flying phone booth.
" Make your project look pretty
Stop trying to be 'oh so witty',
Set targets use numbers
Make graphs, grow cucumbers,
Or we'll tie you to a jetty"
* For rhyming purposes only.
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