Line after line
words become forced
to pass the time
eyes diolated with dumb ideas
it starts to feel steamed
Not rhyming is harder than it seemed
oops, try that line again
one mistake won't make a difference
two might make you roll your eyes
I'm trying my hardest
bare with me now
three strikes and I'm out
"this crap is hard" I start to pout
TWO, one more and it's time to go
"You're an artist, you can succeed."
Great, pressure on, some coffee is what I n-crave
That was close
Can I go on?
I shake my head, why can't I be clever?
I feel my finish around the bend
Darn, this is three: now my poem must end.