Tristen Garner
As I write, pencils snap, words smudge, and lines intersect
I choose to create or to execute
I make the very work you inspect
This final creation lays still
Fate sealed with a final word
The hole was dug and now filled
The once living document now dead
Never again will it live or breathe
The final legacy stuck in your head
The chaotic beast put to rest
Finally tamed words on a page
A new work for the modern age
Never will they see the living beast
Only on tamed ideas can they feast