AI By: Reese-Leon

Those who made AI;

Clipped our wings, now we can’t fly.

Painters can’t paint, writers can’t write.

Wanting to do art;

Is a fight waiting to start.

To write is to be a fool;

AI uses our writing as a tool.

It can do math, design buildings.

But to write in a world with AI;

Is wrong to want to write

Can we win this fight.

It can feel love, happiness

Our songs are full of emotion;

Baltes of love and desire.

The lost of our oldest art

To AI made by a fart

Is a travesty

That well lost are;

Humanity

The arts, writing, singing

AI does it all

If we let it win

We will fall.

Those who made AI;

Clipped our wings, now we can’t fly.

Bringing writing back;

A task I wouldn’t slack

I will unclip our wings

So we can sourer