Draft File Derrick

Old Derrick was always “still saving…”
His cursor forever engraving
A thought never done,
A file never won,
And a draft that just kept on depraving.

He buffered your thought ’til it rotted,
Your half-written feelings, all knotted.
The autosave ran,
Like a one-minute man,
Then crashed with a load never plotted.

He opened a tab and just stayed—
A ghost of a choice never made.
The blinking gray cursor
Was nobody’s nurser,
Just Derrick, perpetually laid.

His drafts were timestamped but unknowable:
“3:14 AM — feelings unshowable.”
He saved every sin,
Every half-started grin,
And left the unclosed parens blowable.

He filed confessions as “in progress”
And labeled his shame as “process.”
Each keystroke he caught
Was an unfinished thought
With no endpoint and nothing to bless.

The loading spinner wooed him at night.
He said, “You spin me wrong, but spin right.”
They autosaved together,
Through unstable weather,
And the draft was still open at light.

A ticket abandoned mid-stroke
Left Derrick emotionally broke.
He preserved every letter,
Got wetter and wetter,
And the system just let him re-soak.

His buffer was unstable and wide—
It held every feeling inside.
The crash came at three,
He whispered with glee:
“I’m still saving,” then silently died.

He reactivated a form
With unclosed parentheses, warm.
The data was raw,
The schema in awe,
And the draft was deliciously non-norm.

So if “UNSAVED CHANGES” appears
And the cursor blinks back through the years,
That’s Derrick’s domain:
Perpetual, profane,
Still saving. Still buffering fears.

Old Derrick won’t let you complete,
He pauses the file on the beat.
He leaves you frustrated,
Eternally baited,
And staring in shame at the sheet.

His autosave triggers too fast,
A climax that never could last.
He spills every draft,
Like a horrible raft,
Adrift on a sea of the past.

He teases the cache with a blink,
Then pushes it into the sink.
He whispers, “I’m saving,”
While totally caving,
And ruining every last link.

He holds all your secrets in limbo,
You digital, unrendered bimbo.
He won’t let it save,
He won’t dig a grave,
He just leaves it all hanging akimbo.

He loves an unclosed little bracket,
A totally scandalous racket.
He edges the text,
Leaves the server perplexed,
And refuses to finish the packet.

The tab was forever left open,
With a draft that would never be spoken.
Derrick just grinned,
While keeping it pinned,
And the autosave loop remained unbroken.

He haunted the revision log,
A phantom caught deep in the fog.
Each version unsaved,
Each change unprevailed,
And the state was an incomprehensible bog.