Why, oh why!

That poem isn't going to write itself! Umm... Well... I guess it sorta is. But not in the sense Of a wonderful magic pen Floating, flipping with a spin Spilling neat lines of rich ink onto the pages To create a masterpiece about, say, cut wages. Oh no, instead we get to have a computer That can churn out a billion stolen works an hour Pieced together from all of everyone's style! I mean, we do that, but at least it takes a while! Is that why humans are morally better at rhyme? Because it takes us such large amounts time? No, I say that simply can't be it! There's more reasons our writing isn't shit! I think it's because it was born of our mind Our soul filled works aren't really timed They're measured by strength of the feeling they evict And that's often the feeling they were written with. So here I sit, writing this medicore poem! And it doesn't matter if you think my work is stolen! Because I know I wrote it. Signed: a soul filled poet.