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Silly bracelets on my wrist.
Each from friends with voices clipped.

Not meaning, not saying, or doing anything.
Other than a gift before the end of spring.

They don't mean much. They're made of yarn.
I didn't think they'd do this harm.

Spreading love before school gets out.
And bringing hate from unshut mouths.

They mean little more than everything,
in the whole grand scheme of things.

They why in them, do we put such store?
To heal wounds of friendships still so sore?