I don't know how it happens,
I see it time and time again,
Words of others twisted and meshed,
To what you would like them to be,
Making the story more interesting,
So you have something to say,
I feel as is I should fall down and crumple,
But really my first instinct is to giggle,
We are all responsible for distorting the words,
Into a more extraordinary story,
All to do is change the tone of voice,
And it puts you all on edge,
We grope at neck and eyes,
In pursuit of a ugly remark,
But the whether it was ugly or not,
It's up to the writer and reader now,
So I must giggle,
For everything is so ripped,
And fuzzy,
From what the story was in the beginning,
But now I must think,
For the way of the human,
May not be kindness, or envy,
But perhaps its just lust for giggling pain.
