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Ren Mayloft Aug 2016
Mangled,
From a mess of sharp tangles,
Comes a sad excuse,
Or a filler,
The air is not any less still,
From a weak word,
One that has no more energy stored,
For it has been devalued,
Senseless use has drained it,
Leaving the speaker as the culprit,
Taking value away every time it was uttered,
Using it the wrong way
In place of having nothing to say,
No way to get me to sway,
Attempting forgiveness,
With deceptiveness,
The misused word,
With nothing left to give.
Sitting empty across a screen,
Sparking no emotion,
Not even the slightest commotion
In a buzzing brain,
From snapping I will refrain,
Yet not for too long,
I am tired of this repeatitive meaningless song.

— The End —