It's too long:
stanzas bigger than the uni-verse,
and infinitely more empty.
A failure of epic proportions.
It's too short:
Crappy meter? More like crappy inch.
Iambeing tortured. Spondeeneously falling sleep.
The battle to read it was a Pyrrhic victory.
Not enough rhymes:
Must be a snow day,
'cause it has no class.
A rubber band has more ornament.
Too many rhymes:
They are a crime.
Elude them – you're fine.
Use them – do time.
I feel sorry for it,
A painting like the Mona Lisa,
if the Mona Lisa was not a painting.
Alliterating the last line is like
a large ladle lifting a lemon –
you could do it, but why?
there's no pleasing you.