Obviously they're annoying and poor
Bloated and cloying and stupid and sore
Objectively worthless and scores upon scores of
Dog-dead acrostics, compiled and left to expire
Yielding ashes in the wilds of library fires
Writhing and smoking like chimneys or tires
Ripping and rippling and rasping smoke higher
Into the atmosphere, dithering, dissipating
Tithing and withering, falling on unanticipating
Editors and forgettors of verses lost to our poor forms
Stupid and bloated and cloying and annoying and worthless and sore
Actually I'm rather beginning to like this
Call me a liar but I think I could write this
Resurrect a whole form through my pen
Or maybe not. But I won't tell you when
Suppose acrostics fade to black then finally end
Time to bring it back, like a grade-school friend
Inspiration and in the day it made you grin
Contemplation make you feel that gooseskin
Suppose you never read acrostics ever again?
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