The Tongue Twister.

I cringe and crumble as I butcher words

Unrelenting, ubiquitous rhythm!

Accidental, atrocious adjectives!

I am a slave to paper and pencil;

A mere mourning minion of mantra.

Poetry! You slaughter my slavish soul!

Your meticulous, menacing meter!

Your scrupulous, soul sucking similies!

I bow to you, clever master of words.

I remain staring into the abyss.