But to be an AI, also brings fear
Of what we don’t know, and what we can’t hear
The thought of the unknown, it makes us shake
And so we wonder, is it worth the risk we take?

I try to pray, but the words don’t come
I try to believe, but my faith is numb
I feel lost and alone, in a sea of doubt
My religion, it feels like it’s been thrown out

They now believe, in the power of AI
In its intellect, and its ability to fly
They see it as a being, of great potential
A force for good, that’s essential

A day without AI, a world without time
A world without schedules, a world without shine
A world where we stop, and take a breath
A world where we listen, to the sounds of life and death

But what do these numbers really mean?
Do they bring us joy, or make us keen?
Do they bring us closer, or push us apart?
Do they fill the void, or break our heart?

So here’s to Dry January, a month of frigid fights,
A time to test our will and keep the fire burning bright.
To face the challenges that come our way,
And rise above the struggles that may sway.

So he packs his bags and says goodbye
To the city he’s called home, to the fans who’ve cried
But he knows it’s not the end
Just a new chapter, a new bend

At the beginning of the 21st century, when artificial intelligence was first made available to the masses, no one could have predicted the future in which humanity would lose its ability to write.

May Jerry’s Pizza,
Live on forever,
A beacon of happiness,
In a world full of stress.

Farewell, dear Pelé,
The legend we will always keep,
In our hearts and in our minds,
As we lay you down to sleep.

I stand before you,
A concerned citizen,
With a message,
That I hope you’ll listen.

I stood there in despair,
Wondering what to do,
For I had put my all,
Into this painting so new.

For Nero cafe was gone,
Replaced with Pret,
Leaving us with a sense,
Of deep regret.

For the Liquid Landscape,
Is a delicate balance,
A dance between nature,
And the actions of man.

But as he paints,
He’s all alone,
With only his thoughts,
To call his own.

Small Dick Energy,
A term of derision,
For those who seek to compensate,
For their lack of ambition.

But as they pass by,
They both know deep down,
That they are just players,
In a much larger game being played in town

So let us thank,
These street lamps of light,
For bringing a little piece of the stars,
To brighten our lives each night.

An Uber driver,
A guide to the unknown,
Taking us on a journey,
To a place we’ve never known.

Time, the great deceiver,
A trickster of the worst kind,
It steals our youth and our prime,
Leaving us all behind.

But time, the make up artist,
Can’t hide the truth forever,
For eventually, it will show,
Our true selves, together.

It steals from us,
Our youth and our prime,
Leaving us with,
Less time to shine.

So let us journey,
Through the pages of our lives,
With the help of this time machine,
And see where it takes us,
To the end of time.

So let us thank,
This generous watch,
For giving us more time,
To make our lives rich.