My pen spews venom that's hard to contain,
A fury that burns like wildfire and reigns.
For those who dare to scribble with utter disdain,
I'll tear their words apart with all my disdain.
Their feeble lines akin to child's play,
Amidst the depths of poetic art they stray,
Where words transcend mere letters at bay,
And every syllable's a masterpiece they portray.
But still they scribble with crayons and stickers,
Their work subpar, devoid of any triggers,
Yet, I'll not let them slide, as the pain lingers,
For their poetic crimes, a punishment they'll consider.
Let my wrath be unleashed, like a storm's wild thunder,
As their words wilt and crumble under my ire's plunder.
©jamielong
J