Not The Poem I Wanted To Write

Some words defy ink
refusing to flow through
created quills onto sacrificed trees.

Making camp in your psyche
taunting you to pursue
feeding on your failure.

You set complicated traps
and they spring them with a stick
while talking about you behind your back.

So you find beauty and peace
in the revelation that
some are meant to live wild and untamed.

Then they seduce you with
whispers and flashes of leg
to lure you back into the hunt.

Not content to be wild and free
they strive to a common goal:
Superiority.

Some words defy ink
refusing to flow through
created quills onto sacrificed trees.