Six of twelve, still fathoming the delve.

Words are good,

words are evil.

The more you use,

the more you peeval.


Cause it peeves me off,

the way there used.

The way they sway,

the way they abuse.


Bordom drives us,

to understand more.

Entertain and appreciate,

Till we’re under the floor.


The latest mantra,

the latest meme,

for me,

is me me me.


I can write,

I can talk.

What makes listening,

the hardest fork.


Should I laugh,

should I cry.

Maybe my fate,

is just to understand why.


Pickup the neuonce,

read the sigs.

placing my attention,

off all the cigs.


They talk they complain,

they drive us to mane.

But why did it help,

when it answers that swane.


Hooked on spelling,

hooked in pronounce.

Theses purist advocates,

of an art based on sain.


It crosses my head,

it crosses my heart.

How humanity provides,

how far we fight france.


Contrary opinions,

counter facts.

Alter egos,

at my spirits disvance.


I I I,

another TLA.

there only four corners,

we find ourselves go.


Inside they hold,

protect and provide.

But outside the corners,

are the ones my back slides.


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