is an artificial intelligence story generator that has no moderation or rules. Your story is only bound by your imagination.

Poem about a bank and its grump manager

In a towering building of concrete and glass,
Lies a bank whose charm doesn’t easily surpass.
Calm, quiet, solid and staid,
Where numbers, charts and auditors raid.

The floors where careers rise and fall,
Echo with the shuffling feet in the hall.
At the helm sits the manager, tall and stout,
A grump by dictionary, that’s without a doubt.

Mr. Crabs, the grump of the lot,
To guide the bank, that’s his sought.
A face of thunder, brows like knots,
Dispensing advice, dealing banknotes slots.

Countless doors separate him from the rest,
Sitting in the silences, crunching day’s progress.
Scowling at papers, a grumble in his voice,
Quill against ledgers, as if he has a choice.

Balancing figures, shuffling stacks,
Bearing the institution on his weary back.
The grumpy figure ruling the bank,
In the world of finance, a high-ranking rank.

His voice echoes eerie through the hush,
As his quill, the paper gently brush.
Yet beneath the grump, simmer stories untold,
Of accounts, figures and of gold sold.

Juggling deadlines, promissory notes,
Life for him was financial quotes.
In the end, the bank-house sleeps,
As the grump manager home silently creeps.

Perhaps in dreams, he finds his peace,
Learning that even moments harsh, eventually cease.
There’s but a man behind the grump’s disguise,
Living, breathing, beneath the bank’s wise eyes.