Dew drops beading on the stem.
Lemmings diving off the end.
Separating at the seams-
Like milk of youth, stripped of cream.
Fly entangled in my web-
Writhe and struggle. Soon you’re dead.
I really only liked your taste.
But couldn’t carry all your waste.
I see that look there on your face-
The way your eyes are changing pace.
Credits empty. Nearly spent.
Sink it right into my gut-
I’m tired of this endless rut.
Let me listen one more time?
Self-inflicted death by rhyme.