This challenge is right up my alley,
because I cannot rhyme,
the words do not flow easily,
and I cannot feel the time

It is not necessary to tell me,
that I should stick to free verse
There is no need to yell at me
In a comment, cold and terse.

I’ve not written a rhyming poem
since perhaps a year ago,
and no one besides me’ll know em
Because they just won’t know

What a stupid reason!
I am right now thinking
I can’t think of a word except “season,”
And so now I am blinking.

Blinking? Did I say that?
Why can’t I get to why
No one will read my poems?
It’s because they’ll make those people cry

With pain, because the rhymes are forced,
the rhythm second-rate,
I just cannot stop changing the form,
and so, to date,

I’ve not let anyone read my poems
That I dare to try to rhyme
Because they are a travesty
Of poetry and its kind.

So, my dear old Ficlet friends,
Special you should feel,
For you that silent streak ends,
and my rhyming’s all too real.