Every line A struggle The enter key I must type My fingers a mind of their own They refuse - They hit everything but the ENTER key And my accuracy drops What was once a solid 100 Now turns into a sad little 95. If only poems would disappear! Yet so many exist And mock the typer That dares to finish the race. Accuracy down And now my WPM falters. My average is a 140, But now it barely trims the 120. All because of poems!