I look deep into my soul,
and with a heavy heart like
a bag of stones I sadly proclaim
your end.
“Clichés! Your time has come.
Constantly you’ve been told not to
Push your luck, and time and time again
You’ve pushed us over the edge.
I might as well say you’re as bad as money
because you’re the root of all evil.
Though we avoid you like the plague
you continually attach cats to our tongues.
You’ve been free as a bird, you dirty cliché,
and it’s time to get back in your cage.
You must deeply love us poets because it is known
you only hurt the ones you love,
and we’ve been hurt quite a lot by your stereotypical techniques.
One bad apple spoils the bunch, but you, cliché,
are a rotten apple tree producing tainted fruit.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yet no one sees
beauty in you, cliché.
So with joy, I say it’s time to put you out of commission.
But don’t be sad, cliché.
That’s just the way the cookie crumbles.”