One done!

Add a second line
And still I'm doing fine.

It's very plain to me
If only you will see,
It's harder when it's three.

We up the ante to four
Still tougher than before.
Shall I try one more,
Or is this my final score?

Well, up to five lines I've got,
And I've given it my best shot.
The grammar may be rot,
The structure isn't hot,
But a limerick, definitely, it is not.

Now six lines is my final try,
"Keep on going," I hear you cry..
"Stopping now? Oh why, oh why?"
But let my efforts end and die.
Let me rest my head and lie,
And sleep before my brain doth fry.

You force me back, just for a bit
And so I take a chair and sit.
Against this problem, my mind I pit.
Do I have the will and wit?
Can I find enough rhymes to fit?
Upon an answer can I hit?
I try and try and fail... Oh shh....!



Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Phaestian, in the year 380 AF.