Words

Where do our words come from, you ask, 
all of those words we love to read. 
A word for each possible task, 
they'd not exist without a need. 

When I was young, I had a sense, 
as I'd go in, some strange new door. 
I've seen this place, I know it well, 
I know I've been here once before. 

To my surprise a word exists 
for such a sense, can it be true? 
Some Frenchman said, long years ago, 
I think I'll call it déjà vu. 

And if I eat so much I'm stuffed 
or have a night with too much brew, 
when all I want is my soft couch, 
I've found out now, they've named that too. 

To my chagrin I'm not the first 
whose excess food caused so much pain. 
sur-feit became, a word before, 
the glory days of Charlemagne. 

So I sat down to coin a word. 
I'm sure it suits me to a tee. 
And I shall claim it as my own, 
a better word could never be. 

Alas a word that's mine all mine. 
I'm a rhyme-ster, I am, I say, 
this word I know describes me fine, 
I'll add it to my resume. 

But what a shock, it made me pout 
I looked it up, what could be worse? 
A rhyme-ster is, I now find out 
a writer of inferior verse.