There once was a poet named Marge,
Whose poetry folder was oh, so large
She'd delete some "so-so's" daily
sending them flying to that e-trash can,
smiling, thinking they were gone.
But a hacker poet hiding under the midnitesun
would sneak in on an unsecured line
and empty that can into her own storage device
to post surreptiously next day (a nasty vice)
under her own alter-ego, her own pen name.
And now some think that she too, knows how to write.
Marge ruffles her feathers, prepares for a flight,
flies northward at daybreak for a short fight.
She teaches that fledgling it's not nice to steal
and that fledgling submits with barely a squeal.
So if you're posting something you think
that you created first,
better look at Marge's folder,
where the seams did burst.
It just may be from her overflow,
ya know.