Lacklustre language, like lacklustre folks,
make half arsed effort and un-funny jokes
like a tarnished silver spoon, or a clouded over moon
those lacking lustre will socially groom
their once bright friends into blanched grey ghosts
who haunt grave streets in sad grey coats
holding bags full of boring to heap on kids
so they grow up convinced that life has a lid
to cap off their dreams with a thick glass roof
while societal norms remain dare proof
like a condom we stretch to prevent change’s birth
those lacklustre habits will pilfer your mirth
unless you fire up, like the fourth of July,
and cry shouts of hope to light up the sky,
for dull fools will try to pour doubt on your spark
but those lacklustre drones never left any mark.

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