The Felling Of The Giant Poem by Kevin Maroney

Pride itself, overwrought
Finds it self over caught
In a web of self-repention.
It must pay.

For such benificient loquation,
requires an equal demonstration,
liable to bring it down
To the level of a paltry clown.

The down is ever deeper for the fall
As the height it encompassed before, all.
Never again shall, I hope, in derilection,
such fancy fall prey to erascible dilection,
a tongue known to those who know thee,
who wait for nothing but to see
the stopping of your words so rough,
wiped and stored in once-fine linen scruffed,
such is the nature of once-fine words.

If I am not being clear to thee,
listen closely, listen to me...
I've said it once, I've said it twice,
do you even need but thrice?
How can such a laggard pace,
be set by one of such professed grace?

How can one, so full of glee,
be not so much fine as thou made he?
What a sorry state this is to be,
but who is sorry here? Not me.