Blasted Computer (My Wife's Response To "My Precious") Poem by Royston Nella

That blasted computer, I hates it so.
What he's doing with it I'll never know.
Surfing in Cyberspace, he works alone.
Leaving me back on earth all on my own.

It does our finances with accuracy.
But it cannot do them as good as me,
and each month we both stare at that bright screen.
Why can't things just return to how they'd been?

I tried hard to use it, but I forget
which keys that I should press and get upset.
I concentrate hard when Internet shopping.
Then it loses it all. — I HATE THE THING!