Wordy birdy, sing your song of verbosity

When I think, which is never, I wonder why I thought I'm clever
I think I'm a pious man, a man of purity and respect
instead I'm pompous, I said pious, what do you expect?
I've switched up my style and it's something I need to acknowledge
before I'm called out, I'd like to call out myself, I lack the knowledge
to be who I want, to express what I need, to write what I bleed
Airy and verbose, I call convincing garbage prose
fluffy clouds of #similar words, hashtag syndrome I suppose
I'm returning to this style to prove a point I'd need not to do
I still can oversell my style, use fifty words where I need two
and to think the only reason I've decided to stylize this way
was in case someone thought I plagiarized everything up to this day
as if that's really something to be concerned about
I told you I was pious, I mean pompous, I've chosen the arrogant route
Loosen my flow in favor of word counts because they count more
than rhyming schemes and perfect tempo and ABAB contour
I mean no disrespect but I can't say I care how this sounds in your head
I've gotten it out of mine, said what had to be said
I write on the left side when I'm feelling...right
I write upright when I'm feeling uptight
or upside down when I'm trying to turn smiles to frowns
I mean frowns, when they're rightside up
redact the mistakes, cover them with other stuff
[redacted confidential useless verbose fluff]