World Weary

She tries again.

Let the words...

be words.

Vowels and consonants dance.

Rearranging themselves,

Not entirely by chance.

First attempt gone into the void.

Tech ether or destroyed.

No copy, no paste...

Sigh, were they a waste?

Pethaps those first lines exist,

a solemn sacrifice to a grasped fist.

Let them go, she says, let them go.

The Universe has its way, you know.

Words, be words, shapes on a line.

Help her to free her mind...