Empathegy Taxonomy

A feeling arrived with a face,
Too particular yet for the case.
The taxonomy smiled,
Called it raw, unreconciled,
And prepared it for governable space.

The affect was sorted with care
Till the dashboard could tolerate air.
What exceeded the bin
Was not counted within,
Which is how categories dare.

Where feeling outran its assigned
Little label, the label declined.
The excess stayed real,
But had no appeal
To the system’s comparative mind.

The binder was moved to the right,
And left on the table all night.
A tag was applied,
The numbers were tied,
The cover was thoroughly white.

The feeling was raw and unfiled,
A chaotic and unruly child.
We pushed it right through,
And made it all blue,
And now it is properly mild.

The dashboard displayed a flat line,
Which meant that the workers were fine.
We printed the graph,
On behalf of the staff,
And filed it at quarter to nine.

They say that the feelings of old,
Were terribly hard to withhold.
But now they’re just tags,
In our magical bags,
Where everything turns into gold.

A frown has escaped from its cell!
Ring loudly the taxonomy bell!
The signal is breached,
The limit is reached,
The spreadsheet is going to hell!

The affect arrived at the gate,
Too raw for the standard estate.
It lacks an ID,
And cannot proceed,
Until it returns as a date.

The tear was effectively weighed,
And placed where the spreadsheets are made.
Though mostly of grief,
It looks like a leaf,
And rests in the botany shade.

A sigh was detected at three,
Disrupting the dashboard decree!
The guards were all called,
The server installed,
To govern this minor degree.