My soul is like a hard drive, slow and sluggish from accumulated data.
Once a year I run the Yom Kippur program, and cull the extraneous files.
Each is examined, its worth is determined. I neither eat nor drink, for fear of spilling on the keyboard.
All day my modem is uplinked to the celestial bulletin board.
I put all my sins into the GOAT file.
Somewhere in the memory lies a trace of everything I've done.
Only G‑d can empty the trash bin.