You say I punch with logic, but all that I can see
Is that you're just repeating yourself to keep up with me.
I tire of this nonesense, of your infantile meandering.
Please tell me something you haven't said with your poetic philandering.
You're trying so hard, so I applaud you,
But you're outclassed and outmatched,
So you must bid your name adieu.
But there's a plan I've hatched,
The only one way to save your name
To me, the Rhyming Master.
So here's the way you'll escape shame:
(Though I know it'll be a disaster.)
Actually rhyme in your set style,
Seven lines a stanza, rhyming the whole while.
'Cause your own style you've defiled
With the poor words you exiled
To this page. You can't file
An argument for this trial,
Otherwise you're in denial.
The tricks you speak of
I don't see on the pages.
Show me your wisdom,
I've been waiting for ages.
Gender:
Points: 1244
Reviews: 53