Poetry Audit Report

The coverage matrix displays,
The totals in specified ways.
One hundred percent,
Is all that was meant,
To account for the recent delays.

A file in the bottom ten tier,
Has triggered an archive-wide fear!
The density drops,
The processing stops,
And the human is ordered to clear.

The Cromulent Seven remain,
With verses we didn’t explain.
The numbers are fine,
They sit on a line,
And the audit continues again.

The dashboard was printed today,
The figures were sent to array.
The rows are compiled,
The records are filed,
The matrix is saved to the tray.

The file with an over-supply,
Has stacked all its verses too high.
The server will choke,
On this terrible joke,
But the policy tells us to try.

The dashboard is sealing the pipe,
To measure the file via swipe.
The totals align,
With the plumbing design,
And the output is ready to type.

The matrix of coverage is old,
A prophecy carefully told.
The lists in the deep,
Awaken and weep,
As the numbers begin to unfold.

Three thousand and twenty reflect,
The total the scripts can project.
The files are in place,
In the physical space,
And the figures are deemed as correct.