Like spiders crawling through the net,
They batten on. They lavish praise
With serpent tongue.
With (((hugs))).
The saccharine syrup, nutritionless honey
Whist inviting the same,
And falsehood piles on lies.
The glib tongue,
One hand on the keyboard,
The other fumbling,
Random words tumbling
Common sense overboard.
Clichés flung;
Red roses, blue pink skies
To some it’s just a game
Mock with slavish, pleasant words. Funny
How this bugs
Me. Praises flung,
The purple prose a haze
Fogging the brains. Mind “To Let”.
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