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The Problem With U

Once upon a wuthering winter, I wondered,
pondered as I wandered, pandering to every
meandering musing. Walking 'gainst wind, my mind,
wrought and wrangled, e'er entangled in thoughts of u.

Doubled it seems so silent, so wrong. Ligature
it is not, nor a dipthong. So Foul a vowel,
consonant when twinned. Wading through the waters of
my wits, warbling, wallowing, washing away my rest

Without warning, I waged war on the alphabet,
to widow, to end a union, to me wasteful
and warped. To unweld the melding with an history
so long, is my weighty work, wherefrom I call, willing

Waive your weary place, wither or withdraw,
A twenty-five letter alphabet, all in all.