Ode to 90% of My Editors (freeform)

I hired you out of a hundred (100)
not because you're the best
but because you were the least worst

when you email me your c/u/t
it reminds me of a dirty soot
darkened, the product
of pollution that's stuck (upsidedown, blinded and unmind)

i don't understand
it wasn't hard
it's all in the script
are you a retard?

you call yourself an editor
but for a name, i have one better
"bane of my existence"
not because you make my life tough
but because you've made me contemplate
my career's enough

please, please, look at the script (with eyes)
give me a timely cut (for you, I despise)
not a messy, puzzle-like enigmatic cryptic
piece of regurgitated vomit mouse shit

soon i will die
you've cut 60 years off my life
but there's one thing i can't deny
life without you is a lovely
peaceful sigh

so if you have a heart
hopefully better then your cutting skills
please kill me now
so i can remember a life without you still

i can't believe you're making
$1500 a week.