The
old pc wouldn’t sort her fault
She
begged. She blubbed. She hit the malt
She
screamed until her cheeks were salt
The
old pc as moveable as basalt
As
if King Mark to her Iseult
Ignored
her pleas, her angry tumult
She
struck the old pc for little result
So
the pc nicked her for assault
He
wasn’t a computer.
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