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The one thing that stands out to me
Whenever I read ancient works
Is that the lines are regular
But rhymes are rare and not in mind.

It seems to me, with this in mind,
That rhyme does nothing useful but
To prove yourself to those that judge
The words that they cannot themselves

Of emulating even dream.
The judges, then, have only worth
When one is lacking self-esteem,
And even then, they seem to hurt

Far more than they could ever help.

Suck it, rhyme pricks.