The logic is circular round,
As you say, "this quaint riddle's not sound."
Respectfully, I still rebound,
Deflecting that critics abound.
May I take all the slings and those darts,
For all riddles are beauty--an art.
Judge not with intellect but your heart,
Or hinted message at core falls apart.
But 'fore you're giving words much credit,
Quit thinking said answer's inherent.
Complain, no mercy, you have merit
Suggesting I fix, delete, 'n' edit.
Gone will be the verses and quatrains.
Purged will be the cryptic campaigns.
Hack apart even all words it contains.
Kick 'em out--maybe little remains.
Now go doubt all or part of my pretense:
Initially, this problem'll make sense.
Lastly, solve the question hence:
Enlighten what game I try to dispense.