Words fall down to death by red sword, pen cuts out the excess whores.
Red pen ink, to my page, stains the thoughts I pressed in pain.
Cut the shit the darlings too, kill the ego made from ruse.
Red line runs through half a page, cuts out these words I thought were great.
Cut the shit, cut it through, line-to-line an ‘X’ marks lose.
Red ink here and there a lot, lines by circle coffee blots.
Oh what action oh what prose guess what my words it’s time to go,
Leave my pages, I’m sucking thin, the story goes without you in.
I am so sorry, understand, the reader has made his own demands.
He said your lovely quite alright but he fears you’re endless plight.
You see dear words your painted tint, a sort of way to fake a win.
I guess you came to satisfy these thoughts of mine which I thought write.
Looks like I tossed you in a pile, mulled you over for a while.
Fell in love with your sweet mirth, should not have slept with Mrs. Adverb.
Time to say goodbye to you, nice to make you show such truths.
I am so sorry and so sad it’s come to this oh yes it has,
One more chance to let you speak, just one last thought I’m setting free.
The words that float and sound so good, the two I say do sound so rude.
I’m going to have to end with that, a spit of banter yet compact,
Off you go unneeded prose, take your charm you’ve been disposed.
No more fancy, no more show, grab your friend and off you go.
Suck my words into the night, enjoy this rhyme and sleep alright.
Read a thing a time or two, see it’s madness writing for you.
Well my words goodbye you two, bull-shit ends now – I bid ado.
– Thomas M. Watt