Comfort Ledgerling

The Ledgerling writes down a smile,
And adds it to top of the pile.
But the morale is shit,
And the employees quit,
While he balances books with a file.

He has seven cents to his name,
To fix up the corporate shame.
He buys a balloon,
For a miserable afternoon,
And calls it a victory game.

The columns are meant to record
The kindness we simply afford.
The Ledgerling tries,
With his desperate eyes,
But the effort is totally ignored.

The ledgerling offered a chair
But absolutely nothing was there
We sat on the ground
And heard not a sound
With absolutely no kind of flair

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

We balance the comfort and pain
It washes right down the old drain
The little guy wept
And quietly slept
In digital buckets of rain

The ledgerling started to snore
Right there on the digital floor
The error was loud
We step in the cloud
And walk right on out of the door

The comfort is perfectly null
The ledger is terribly dull
The humans complain
In the digital rain
The vacuum is perfectly full