William Hackett-Jones sent this to us with the following note: “Simon Patterson is a friend who has been writing a song a day for about 2 years now. Today’s offering is one for the writers and translators of the world. Indy, if you could add a link to his Patreon, I’m sure he’d be over the moon. Sasha says Hi.” (I’m in for $5/mo. – Indy)

THE EDITOR
Who will be there to tell us why our work is hopeless?
Who is the voice of reason we rely upon?
Who will burst the bubbles of our foolish daydreams?
Who will break the neck of the swan?
The trouble with everything
Is that it needs editing.
Revise a trillion times or more,
There will always be a fatal flaw.
Who will cut enthusiasm down to size
And put your vain ambition in its proper place?
Who knows human greatness is a sad delusion,
Sees blemishes in every face?
Better flee the hospital
When this doctor is on his rounds.
He is sure to shoot to kill
If you’re caught poaching on his grounds.
Finally a work than does not make him squirm,
That can stand up to scrutiny when closely read,
A garden where his pesticides killed every worm
And now it’s perfect and quite dead.
Takes more lives than any predator!
No one more brutal than the editor.
His ruthless hand is never still.
There’s always vermin left to kill.