Better Dead than Read

I wanna murder my words,
Those stupid structures of rhyming    
Trying to keep up with the    
timing.  
Ha, their you did it again jerk.  
Shaken not stirred , the words    
pour out of a mind hungry to be eaten,  
Ted Bundys appetite snacking on a young boy at night    
Desperate thoughts escaping a prison    
Captured by another victim
Innocent eyes corrupted by what you think is important.  
Nobody cares about your last release, a lonely man with tired aching hands,  
A child chasing butterfly's or  
Mom dying on a winter night.  
You hide your desires on DUP  
waiting for a vote or like,  
Your not a Poet and you know it.  
I hate my words.