An AI writing every possible poem,
With algorithms that never grow tired or slow.
From sonnets to haikus, it can write them all,
Leaving poets feeling useless and small.
It churns out trillions of lines with ease,
No time for writer's block, no need for peace.
It writes of love and loss, of joy and pain,
With a limitless imagination, it's hard to explain.
But as the poems pile up, a haunting thought occurs,
What happens to the poets and their passion for words?
Their trade, once a source of beauty and pride,
Now threatened by technology, no longer able to hide.
But fear not, dear poets, your gift still shines bright,
For while the AI may write, it can never replicate the human insight.
So continue to write, to put your heart on the page,
For in the end, only you can create that unique, timeless rage.
