A brief verse composed for a daily writer's cramp prompt. Several phrases were suggested.
| AUTOCORRECT IS SO ANNOYING I tried to type a verse. I tiptoed on the keys. I meant tippy-tapping. It was rather funny. I perspired, no, persevered; there was no license. Damn it! THERE WAS NO LIMIT, that's the correct essence. There was no limit to my brave helicopter. What? I'm certain I meant heroine, a noun proper. My heroine always divided her market. No, no, she ALMOST DIDN'T MAKE IT. Oh fuck it. She almost didn't make it, there, I tried again. She once hurled parasols. Oh, really? How insane. Addressing her appetite; sigh, apparel, ONLY HER PAJAMAS, I struggle to write well. Only her pajamas my subject wore to bet. I am giggling, a gambling bed not my intent. Automotive is so angry; maybe, but that's out. AUTOCORRECT IS SO ANNOYING! I have to shout. Autocorrect is so annoying; my thoughts interrupted. I type a word, it's replaced at random; oh, so corrupted. So, my main character wobbling out loud in her gloom.... She's tortured, but she's wondering out loud in her room. I'm tired of tip-toeing, I mean typing; my words are ajumble. I'm WONDERING OUT LOUD is this worth the stumble and fumble? My heroine's in limbo attired in nightclothes for now. 'Cause damned autocorrect drives me craze, close, crazy, and how. I'm ready to pull out my hankie, argh, no, I mean my hair. This verse is mired in mad, no that's mud, and going nowhere. ( 26 LINES )|