The compilers came when they were called,
for a reference had to be resolved.
A committee was formed for them to find,
which data structure was one of a kind.
The array they thought a "homo-genius" hero,
Array-Bhatta himself knew the importance of zero.
But after his 'continuous demands' to them it dawned,
When they give him more space,they'd be conned.
The linked list's head was in the right place,
But a clumsy fellow who took any available space.
Leaving directions for them to mull,
They asked "What's the point if it all points to null?"
My toppers come last says weird Mr stack,
What if he pops our bubble and gives us back?
To push it on him they felt loath,
they thought,"is having no priorities ever growth?"
The uprooted trees in a world so sparse,
They play games,decide and our words they parse.
For work-life balance it often grieves,
and does bottom's up when child leaves.
The sorted heap says it makes no waste,
But they felt decisions aren't made in haste.
Queue points it's index finger,data's easy to find,
but he puts down what's on top of their mind.
They scratched their heads to devise a test,
to find which data structure was the best.
At last they decided they're all at par,
for all of them are born under the star (* )
