>Zecora thou art, proficient in magics of code.
>Looking at tall beauty as it strode.
>A stallion, exotic; Office's candy for eye;
>You do admire these hips, you're not gonna lie.
>He turns the corner and the beauty is gone,
>And with the code again remain you alone.

>To take your mind elsewhere you switch up your task;
>Maybe you should model that new fancy mask,
>Mare of many talents you are, let there be no doubt,
>But distracted you are by male musk reaching your snout.
>You don't dawdle, you focus on craft,
>To create the model; if only a draft.
>The hour is gone, you've been in a trance.
>Fruits of your labor earn a bewildered glance.
>It's thick, it's round, it's seven joints long;
>Have you been working... on an alien schlong?!

>Be Anon; be smart; be annoyed as shit,
>At the horses who constantly insult your wit.
>On a daily basis, no less.
>You stop before you digress.
>You'll show them; They'll all flippin' see
>That you're not useless with your CS Degree!

>These runes; tough puzzle to crack.
>Where's the registers or at least heap and stack?
>No jumps, no NOPs, not a single opcode,
>Just magic and runes by the truckload.

>Hired 'cause you're a colt and it drives you mad.
>Just for the quota and not the skills you've had!
>Ogled all day, met with salacious smile,
>How'd they fare in your shoes for a mile?
>Your cheeks burn as they admire your bottom
>Or run headfirst into your scrotum
>On accident, always, every time!
>You'd be rich if for each you had a dime.

>Zecora you are, once and again!
>You figured out next step to your plan.
>There will be no contest - perish the thought.
>No colt can resist your Zebrican plot.
>He will be ensnared, hitched and bred,
>Let no mare to be in your stead.

>Be Anon, reasoning out loud,
>By the hostile tech you will not be cowed.
>The basis for all calculation is imperative change,
>But the runes dance oddly, their movement strange.
>You've been trying hard, documenting your way,
>But to no avail, the shameful issue is here to stay.
>There's an exit - you could ask for help.
>But the mares will treat you like a pathetic whelp.
>You don't want it; You ego will suffer a slam.
>But you know when to fold 'em; Time to RTFM!

>Thicc manual grimoire hits table with thud,
>Read it from cover to cover you should.
>"Should? More like must!", you utter
>Of your pride it is personal matter.
>You groan and cringe but take to the reading
>And every line almost causes internal bleeding -
>The language's obtuse; terminology trite;
>All you see is more of the same magical shite.
>You hold your head in a fit of despair,
>No matter your skills, you're just not quite there.

>Be Zecora once more, lusty no more,
>Upset colts you're not looking to score,
>You gently hug the despaired male,
>With your every bit from your head to your tail,
>You want him to smile, to laugh once again
>Like he used when he got hired there and then.

>You must be Anon for you are hugged tight,
>By a zebra who's there for your plight.
>You had it out for her, you're not gonna lie,
>Her rhymes are adorable and so is her tie.
>Her eyes take you to different place
>As do her hips when she sashays.
>She voices the question, and not oblige you cannot,
>For her cute muzzle has been with worrying fraught.
>You relay your persisting, unmanageable woes,
>Of programming failure and your runic throes.
>She hums in your chest and offers to help,
>You're so elated you squeeze from her a yelp.

>In an entrancing embrace like a tickled trout,
>Zecora you are, there is no doubt.
>You get tingles from snootle to dock,
>Thankful stallion gave you quite the shock.
>You ask for a reason of this empathy transfer,
>And he gives you quite the answer
>"For you are the only among mare staff
>That wouldn't condescendingly laugh
>At my efforts, misguided but just
>You offered to teach, unconsumed by lust"
>He thinks and he adds, stroking your cheek
>"I simply adore you, you're my kind of geek,
>There shall be no further pretense
>Let the petting of zebra belly commence"
>He ruffles your tuft, what a beautiful catch
>These fingers no one could possibly match.
>You have a spare evening; you're ready to teach,
>With a spark in his eyes many things he can reach.

>Next morning you're awoken by a pleasing scent,
>Of food being cooked to replenish energy spent.
>You jump off the bed, stretching your legs,
>After all said and done, only one question begs.
>In the early morn only the screen,
>Bathes the room in a radiant green,
>Your hooves fly, showing runic tree unfurled
>Message proudly stating, "Hello, my world!"