You murder the words letter by letter

Always searching for the better

Each word placed on this world to form--

The barf coming out like a storm

Each stanza in place

Like a runner preparing for a race

No need to attempt to find the rhyme

You won't possess enough time

This world metaphorizing all the wrong ways --

Butterfly into cocoon

Much like men associated with baboon

these words you try to define so --

The fictionary doesn't own the meaning to this tale

You would think only the brain of the master could pale

Out an explanation

But not even he could persuade the words to work to his fascination

So use the knife to carve the poem

That without doubt you make your own

Even if each word you had to make a slave