Wasted Words
The first few, fall into the deepest well and make the biggest splash
The next ones fill the well prominently providing a bountiful of water to quench the thirst
These ones are not needed, the well is overflowing, yet more of them to come
There is less and less, there seems to be a sort of void
The well is emptying by the day, only enough to fill a bucket
The words dropped like coins for luck, yet have the opposite effect
No more to be said, the well contains no more than a puddle
But there is one hope left which originates from the clouds
Let's wait for them, to create the beautiful sounds.
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