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But I can't do iambic feet at all.
I begged and begged for him to write this piece.
I thought my pain would never, ever cease.
I couldn't get the bouncing of the ball.

I tried to get the rhythm in my bones.
The syllables were hard for me to get.
I couldn't rhyme; my mind was sure and set.
The words fell from my mouth as hard as stones.

I put it off until I could not wait.
I tried to write, but nothing came to me.
The time has come for me to pay the fee,
And once again I'll walk with normal gait.

So here it is-the sonnet I have made.
You'll ask no more from me, my debt is paid.