My metaphors, like petit fours
My similes work abysmally
My meter sometimes peters out
Allusions, mere delusions
My irony shows its wrinkles
Enjambment's full of kinkles
Iambic, Trochaic, and Passaic
All strike me as rather archaic
Some bards swear by clever rhyme
I only wish I had the time ~
Dare I don the crown of a 'Poet?'
I leave it to the reader to bestow it
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