Just Fail Me and Move On


Poetry and rhyme

are my greatest foes.

When given the time,

I’d rather write prose.



I’d like to pass,

so, I guess

I’ll fret over this task.


Minutes speed by

and slowly words come,

but I wish this fly

would inspire some.


Sadly, no, he has

nothing to offer.

He is known as

merely a bother.


Over halfway done,

yet not even close.

Rhyme unfailingly shuns

nine-tenths I propose.


At last, here I am:

the final stretch!

Now you can condemn

this poem and retch.


I see that frown

and I deserve it.

I should have found

something better to submit.


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