The Poem that Rhymes

I sit and I stare,
I look and I glare,
And my mouth is agape,
Much like a hungry ape.

What am I doing?
I am trying to write a poem —
One that is funny, and can ryhme.
However, apparantly, it has stopped.

It can no longer rhyme.
Unless hard I try, I might get by,
By saying something like time.

Time rhymes with rhyme,
So the poem can rhyme.
But in fact rhyme rhymes with rhyme,
So I shall say rhyme rhyme rhyme!
And it rhymes! I feel like stopping.

But alas I continue,
As I am nearly bored to tears.
What can I write, or what can I do,
To pass my time constructively.

Well, nothing apparently,
So I continue with rhyme.
Something I do all the time.
And I don’t get paid a dime.

I love rhyme, don’t you?
I’m sure you love it too!
The nice sound it makes,
Tasty as chocolate cakes.

My word! I am lame…
But tame tame tame.
This is getting stupid.
And my bottle has a lid.

I’m sick of rhyme, aren’t you?
Actually I am not, and what? you too?!
Great then, as I can rhyme some more,
And I can then…floor?

Thank you for reading my poem…
To end with a rhyme I shall say lion.
This poem is very deep,
I am now going to sleep.

Goodnight. (Light)