FORCE-THE-EDGES

(One poem talking smack about another poem)

It lacks a certain something,
Its stanzas are too long,
It rhymes its lines, but oftentimes,
The words just come out wrong.

It’s quite a contradiction,
Though it’s fiction, granted that,
A written self-infliction,
That has all but fallen flat.

Its themes are rather faulty,
Its rhythm can’t be helped,
And when I read it to my dog,
In pain, the creature yelped.

So take this as a warning,
Lest ye buy into this lie,
This poem’s rather corny,
Twill not stand the test of time.