Mutilated

I am sincere about it in my waiting
For the word and a message inside,
Proof that is needed poet’s pudding.

I have received message mutilated.
What do I do with the wrong word.
I will be proved wrong in pudding.

A fragment is what I have received
But fragments are my truth in part.
Wrong word leads to wrong poems.

But wrong words are whole poetry.
Poetry is wrong words from a night
When a whole truth gets mutilated.

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