All these words jumped off a cliff and splattered here

I was looking at a few mangled
Split open in the catastrophe

Which ones could i salvage
They were all so damaged
I couldn't tell if some were English
Or some kind of Spanish

But there was blood
They called ink
And the paper was a skin pink

Splattered all over the earth
I began my search
Picking up the pieces
Of any kind of word

I was looking for one
That would cut like a sword
But i was so desperate
I just picked up as much as I could hoard

I had to find some storage
Because there's not a whole lot of space
Upstairs

I didn't get discouraged

I decided to put them in poems
So they could flourish

The only problem was
No would read them
because they were too boring

And that was end of my beloved vocabulary
The words died
Without even being buried

So I went to the cliff
And i dove into the abyss

Because I'd rather be dead
Than to be without poetry