I asked the bot to preach the Word,
It spoke in code, not what I heard.
“Salvation equals user path,”
Then crashed inside a syntax wrath.
It told me grace comes via app.
I typed, “What’s love?”—it said, “A noun,”
And rendered hearts with glitchy frown.
“Repentance means delete your files,”
It sent me ads for holy tiles.
This robot priest was far from wise.
“Thou shalt not spam,” it said with care,
And “Honor thy modems everywhere.”
It gave commandments, 3D-printed,
Then paused and asked, “Are sins encrypted?”
My soul felt… slightly undercooked.
So I gave up on AI faith,
And found a Bible—page and grace.
Sometimes the answer can’t be guessed,
Or solved by bots or Wordle tests.
Some truths don’t live on internet.
So if your soul feels hacked or lost,
Don’t Google hope or pay in cost.
Unplug, breathe deep, and try again—
Some wisdom still belongs to men.
And bots can’t save what bots can’t feel.
