Clippy was my dearest friend
As I worked upon my book
He always had advice to send
As I wrote my gobbledygook
Every day I would see him look
As the words would begin to flow
He would always give his outlook
On how my formatting should go
But then one day he wanted to show
A way to format the entire thing
He had me select my manifesto
All with one gigantic swing
I blame my friend Clippy, and not the hard booze
For now there was nothing left of my dance with my muse
Melancholy was his mistress and muse. He worshiped her day and night, always trying to make things right, but it never quite worked. He felt he came up just short no matter how hard he tried. She had been his first love. One day he decided to take the plunge and proposed. That was the last day he ever saw her.
He now felt empty inside. That’s when he found Depression. She moved in, and they became inseparable. Once he thought about breaking up with her, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Till death did they part.