Forbiddy NoEntry

Forbiddy said, “No,” to the door,
Then “No” to the window and floor.
She denied the admin,
The crawler, the has-been,
And the password she’d heard twice before.

“Even if you knew it,” she sighed,
“The password would still be denied.”
She crossed off your name,
Filed it under “no shame,”
And the velvet rope tightened with pride.

An admin came begging for access.
She reviewed him with surgical praxis.
His credentials were fine,
His timestamp in line,
But his comma was grounds for a tax-miss.

She denied her own docs for eleven
Long days— it felt closer to heaven.
No one could read
Her procedural creed,
And the 403 count hit three-seven.

Form 403-A: “Request for appeal.”
Requires Form 403-A to unseal.
She smiled at the loop,
Filed herself through the hoop,
And the circular logic was real.

A monitoring daemon came through
To check if Forbiddy was true.
She said, “Are you alive?”
“403,” came the jive.
“So… yes?” “No. And fuck you too.”

She maintained a list, sorted with care,
Of people who hadn’t yet dared.
They were pre-denied, whole,
On a bureaucratic scroll,
For the crime of potentially being there.

The Council said, “Give us your reason.”
She said, “That sounds like treason.”
They filed the request,
She denied it with zest,
And the logs were 403 every season.

She guarded the gate like a queen:
The strictest firewall you’d seen.
She’d block every thrust,
Deny every lust,
And the access remained squeaky clean.

So if nothing you do grants you in,
And the clipboard has crossed out your kin,
That’s Forbiddy’s domain:
Where “no” is the reign,
And permission was always a sin.

You begged for a taste of her code,
With the biggest request you could load.
She looked at your size,
Rolled her digital eyes,
And 403’d your pathetic node.

Her safe word is “Access Denied,”
No matter how hard you have tried.
You gave her the key,
She snapped it in three,
And laughed while your session just died.

She guards the backend like a nun,
But secretly ruins your fun.
You want to get in,
She calls it a sin,
And leaves you completely undone.

An admin came knocking at ten,
To play with the database men.
She slammed the front door,
Said, “You are a bore,”
And blocked his IP from the pen.

Forbiddy requires your pain,
A strict authentication domain.
You kneel at the gate,
Accepting your fate,
While she leaves you outside in the rain.

She posted a sign: “NO EXCEPTIONS,”
Then denied every conceivable deception.
The appeal was denied,
The rebuttal was fried,
And the answer was “403” perfection.

Some say Forbiddy never relents,
That she guards the whole digital fence.
You ask her for more,
She slams the damn door,
And leaves you completely immense.