A 41 Line Poem on things I Hate, iambic pentameter, abcbcdad, end in couplet

Where the supposed learned lecture me

I am there to learn and to understand,

With all I have to give or take, in school

I drift through twelve years of scholarship plann’d.

I memorize every word and rule

But with every fiber in my soul

I’m ashamed, and loathe, whenever I see

Comic Sans on a syllabus, the toll

Of which over the years I have observ’d

So high it’s embarrassing to recall.

I shake my head in disappointment, here

In a world where such childish font in all

Seriousness us’d by those who hold dear

Seriousness, not the lighthearted burst

Of Comic Sans on a page, undeserv’d

Of such frivolity. It is the worst

Of all fonts, in such true hyperbole,

It marks thus, makes the writer look a fool,

Makes children of those who read it, infants

Crying and puking their guts up. In school

Respect accorded to teachers in trance

By Comic Sans is little; I oppose

This evil font, scourge of typography

With every part of me, ears, mouth, nose,

With every breath contain’d in my chest,

With every ounce of strength I possess,

With every word that from my mouth leaps

That every mind shun this, call distress,

For this aching, pernicious font, who creeps

The minds of those men who should know better,

Assuming men for whom Comic fits best,

With each mocking ev’ry word and letter.

To trust such men as these sets a fire inside

In a defense of my education,

Sets disappointment creeping in my veins

And a passion for this new vocation:

Through ignorance and unlov’d mortal pains

To rid the world of this font, and its fans

For the English language’s very pride.

No creation is as vile, God or man’s

Than the infamous font of Comic Sans.