Line after line

words become forced

to pass the time

eyes diolated with dumb ideas

brain malfuction

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.