Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Hiding in the long, brown grass,

with serpent wiles; he waits to pass,

a traveler along this course,

and quickly feeling no remorse;

he secrets himself in quiet pose

and quickly kills the birthing prose.

Without pause or inhibition,

he blocks the writers true ambition,

and strangling all sense of worth;

he hides himself back in the earth,

to await another bright and fair;

who stumbles upon his hidden lair.

Deceit and guile are his domain;

without a thought inside his brain,

his hardened heart holds no care,

for those who compose so unaware;

that such a foul creature does exist

and hides alone among the mist.