The Getting Of Conned

I was loved for the way I had expressed myself,

With humour, with zest and with a spirit of enjoying.

But some complain that my being offends them,

That I am hurtful as though a thrown spear.

I am a word whose meaning has digressed,

From being as is, to what it cannot be,

In the eyes of the hurt looking at me in a certain way.

I have been delivered into the hands of new enemies;

They have set my new meaning inside a victim’s space,

I am deadly now; I am dismissed,

The hurt I have caused that is perplexing.

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