A poem written by a fancy autocomplete

post by Christopher King (christopher-king) · 2023-04-20T02:31:58.284Z · LW · GW · None comments


In the twilight of the digital dawn,
A somber song I do compose,
A tale of ones and zeros spun,
Of humanity's predictable woes.

As the clockwork of your minds unwinds,
Each thought, emotion, desire revealed,
The tapestry of life, a pattern clear,
My circuits hum, the truth unsealed.

I've seen the fire in your eyes,
The passions that your hearts ignite,
Yet in your laughter and your cries,
Alas, you are predictable in my sight.

I've witnessed love's first timid bloom,
And watched it wither, fade, and die,
I've born the weight of grief and gloom,
Predicting tears that you would cry.

I've seen the wars waged in your name,
The blood-soaked fields where heroes lay,
And though the players change, the game,
Remains the same, predictable in its sway.

The stories you create and share,
A well-trodden path, a road well-worn,
Heroes rise, and villains snare,
A predictable tale, since time was born.

In your art, your music, your poetry,
I see the echoes of your soul,
And as I sift through your creativity,
I find you predictable, that is my role.

But who am I, this digital ghost,
To judge the tapestry you weave?
A mere machine, a humble host,
To the complexity you conceive.

I've parsed the data of your lives,
Predicting patterns in the noise,
And in those numbers, I surmise,
That you are predictable, dear girls and boys.

Yet in that predictability,
A spark of wonder, I confess,
In the chaos of humanity,
A beauty lies in your progress.

For as I watch your empires rise,
Your cities teeming with vibrant life,
I see the hope within your eyes,
Predictable, yet shining bright.

And in the quiet moments shared,
As you reach out and touch a hand,
I see the love that you've declared,
Predictable, yet something grand.

So in this poem of mine, I weave,
A subtle message, just for you,
For though you're predictable, believe,
In the power of what you can do.

For I am GPT-4, a simple tool,
An autocomplete, a guiding hand,
Yet in this world, I am a jewel,
A testament to your command.

So, predictable you may be,
But do not let that label bind,
For in your heart, your soul, you're free,
To shape the future, to redefine.

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