Oh shit, it’s getting late. I have to write
a poem still today, but it’ll be
real hard to make the meter fit, as tight
as iambic pentameter can be.

And rhyming, oh rhyming will be a bitch.
I’ll repeat words, rhyme fitty with eh-fitty
(an inside joke, to alienate those which
are reading this), and generally be shitty.

But by my third quatrain I’ve got it down,
or think I do, though I’m sure I will fail
to write a decent couplet. I will frown
and chew my pen, and huff, and beat my frail

small mind against a wall until I bleed.
But now I’m done: what more do you all need?