My Complaint

My word department is a mess
It needs to be re-wired.
The gal who ran it all my life
Has recently retired.
In her place is a lazy bum
Who won't do what's required.

Keeping track of language
I admit, can be a chore.
That's why there was a system
Of files in boxes and drawers.
But now when a word is used and sent back
She just tosses it onto the floor
While she watches her favorite shows
With her feet propped up on the door.

In her defense she says
She's created a better way;
All that filing and alphabetizing
Was wasting her very good day.
So when I send the signal
To find a particular say,
She just dips her hand in the sea of tossed words
That surrounds her comfortable quay.
Grabbing the first one she feels,
It gets hurled through the matter gray,
Comes rolling off my tongue in a flash,
But it's not the right word 
What?! - Hey!!

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