Fine you’re right, I suppose,
Even though you’re not
But you’d tear open my mouth
To spoon-feed
The correctness you impose
In your sugar coated, flakey, profound prose
Alphabet Cereal.

And it’s a bit ironic you see
Just like your Word Tee
How someone so narrow-minded
Is so completely malleable
Just so that they can be completely infallible
And I know that what you were going to say
Isn’t exactly what you mean,
Thesaurus.

But it’s funny the things we have to do to be right
Sometimes we even have to (dis)agree
But you don’t, do you?
And that’s the problem,
No stance, no sticks or broken bones
And yet you stand so still
That no one would ever know that you’re breathing
Deer

The fact of the matter is
That you’re transparent
And we can see that you’re held together
With only words that are apt for the moment
And it wouldn’t take more than a handshake to crush you
In the palm of my hands
So expire in pieces
Slacker Jelly