Bad Poetry You probably never want to read

Hitting the word count

I find it is a pain to hit the given word count

I realise I do not have that much to say

So instead of facts and figures

I must elaborate and elongate my sentences

Adding in as many words as possible

Whilst simultaneously saying absolutely nothing

Of relevance or making any point that in any way

Retains any pertinence to the question that

I have in fact, by some higher power,

Been asked to discuss, to comment upon

Instead I sound like some verbose, word

Laden monster, using synonyms to say

The same thing over and over again

But in slightly longer and increasingly futile ways

Whilst simultaneous producing no evidence

Whatsoever of said point that I, in all my wisdom

Do indeed need to make, but still I plough on

Like a farmer sowing the seeds that will

Spring forth life and ultimately sustain us

With rich crops, now using even more literary techniques

Such as similes, metaphors and alteration

To take you on a journey through the winding

Wonderment of words using strangely

Superfluous sentences

And yet you read on, thinking to yourself

What a clever wordsmith creating

Vivid and magical images in our minds

When indeed I am saying absolutely nothing

Just counting each word, ticking down

To the point where I need to write no more

But in the end it all goes wrong

And I finally run out of