House of Usher Update: Second Life Builder Poetry

A Prim Within a Prim

Linden Lab, help me now!
As I wrinkle my weary brow,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my builds have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
With deletion, or foul play,
With poor textures, or with none,
Is my item the less gone?

All in SL, every whim
Is but a prim within a prim.
I stand amid the piles
Of 4000 items in my files,
And I hold in fingers slim
One tiny, ornate, sculpted prim
How sad! As I watch it creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
Abyss of lost & found –
While I weep! While I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp
My prims with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I build quicker
And seams join without flicker?
Or is all I craft or merely shim
But a prim within a prim?

Iggy's note: Apologies to the forlorn shade of E.A. Poe, now more forlorn than ever if he read this. This is what happens, gentle readers, when you spend too much time building.