Reckless endangerment of language 

I am disgusted with my word-mongering

Flippant and useless forging, like the waste of good iron

I clasp my cup of cluttered words

And spill them carelessly, without design. 
Sometimes the feelings build inside

And they frighten me with the strength of their tides

So I gather my weapons of syllables, sounds

And I cast the emotions

Out. 

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