Everyone upset all the time
as words get minced and mashed;
Another revision to refine
or run the risk of being trashed.
Every reader, now faint of heart,
words launched must be landed soft;
Dangers highlighted at the start,
a moral duty held aloft.
Let’s coddle the kids in cotton
though there’s never been less to fear;
Let the grandma’s not be forgotten,
it’s a wonder they ever made it here!
How can the word be defended?
Let loose it’s power, unrestrained;
Must we always be offended
and finding others to be blamed?
This is not a world of roses;
When there’s no words left to teach,
so the ideal one supposes
suddenly becomes out of reach.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 