Appendix Silk

The finding was brutal and raw,
Exposing a terrible flaw.
The Silk wraps it tight,
So it looks quite polite,
And hides it away from the law.

They escorted the failure away,
So it wouldn’t ruin the day.
The appendix is nice,
Like a bucket of ice,
To keep the disaster at bay.

We padded the margins with care,
To cover the utter despair.
The Silk makes it read
Like a standard-ass deed,
And leaves the reality bare.

The appendix was woven of thread
Right after the server was dead
The silk was too fine
We crossed the old line
The error was painfully red

A fabric of digital text
Is leaving the human perplexed
The appendix is cold
The backup is old
And nobody knows what is next

We append the silk to the page
And fly in a digital rage
The data is lost
We don’t know the cost
We’re locked in a procedural cage

The silk is incredibly thin
We threw the old code in the bin
The server was sad
The logic was bad
The error was counted a sin

The fabric is perfectly flat
We leave the whole database at
A state of decay
For many a day
And blame it on somebody’s cat

The thread is a magical thread,
Which whispers to errors we dread.
We wrap up the doom,
In a mystical tomb,
Until the whole system is dead.

We folded the finding real neat,
And left it to rot on the seat.
The silk is a cloth,
For a lazy-ass moth,
And makes the whole failure complete.

The appendix was sent to the tailor,
Who flagged it a critical failure.
We stitched up the bytes,
In a couple of nights,
And mailed the request to a sailor.

The fabric must cover the flaw,
To properly follow the law.
The server just cries,
At the elegant lies,
And covers its head with a paw.

The findings are strictly maintained,
And all the exceptions contained.
We format the text,
So the user is vexed,
While the actual errors remained.