My pizza pie is nothing like the sun—
Except it's round and warm and yellow...  Um...
No, wait! I'll start again. This [i]will[/i] be fun!

A block of cheese is nothing like the gum
That sticks beneath the desks within the school,
Abandoned now to pandemonium—

Except they're quiet, empty...  I'm a fool
To think I might summarily compose
Some sprightly verse in times of such misrule.

"My love is nothing like a red, red rose,"
I'll start to say, but then on second thought,
"My love is nothing like a red, red nose.

She clowns about more often than she ought,
Descends the stairs with shoes that flop and squeak,
Her purple hair—" But there! Again, I'm caught!

She's nothing like, I say. It's super weak
Enumerating just the opposite!
So once again! A breath, then start to speak.

The sun itself is nothing but a chit.
Symbolic, standing in for love and light,
It's just a ball of gas and quite unfit!

Avoid clichés, I think's the message, right?
Engage in fission—nothing like the sun—
And find the parts beneath before you write.