Writer's Lament

Why can't my heroes sound as if they matter,
their listeners to hang on every word,
each utterance to count, no idle chatter,
so any that attempt to strike a chord
succeed in piercing coarse, plot-thickened skins,
and battle weary, dented, rusting armor?
That trite, most unoriginal of sins,
to bore -- no, make my every snake a charmer,
my every villain wrestle with their morals,
their inner conflicts resonant and deep;
they're never ever resting on their laurels
with all those evil promises to keep.
But most of all, let language be my friend.
And have them read my stories to the end.