I put down my pen, my creature is finished,
It has come to life before my eyes,
Its metaphors swing restlessly,
Its similes gaze malevolently,
It moans heavily, awake from its slumber,
I am shocked and appalled and flee,
I fear the thought of it loose on the world,
Wretched creature formed from my evils,
I put it out of its misery,
Realising it could not survive the onslaught of man,
Now it rests in the ashes of my fireplace.