[Weasel words] are sheer deceit
Your expectations fail to meet
Withhold the data you’d expect
Insult the meanest intellect.

“Some might think…” and “some would say…”
Conceal, not point out, the way
They discombobulate your eyes
What they don’t do is make you wise.

They cite the “studies some have read”
Whose authors might as well be dead
No names, no proof, no grounded claims
Just echoes playing silly games.

They float on screens and haunt debate
Polite, obscure, and obfuscate
They bleed conviction into mist
So wrong and right can coexist.

Their goal’s to shift, not stand or fight —
To shade the day and dim the night
They’d rather seem than really be
And trade in soft duplicity.

Each “may” and “might” and “could be true”
Pretends it offers something new
But all it does is stall the mind
To leave your sharper sense behind.

Yet we, grown used to such disguise,
Consume the lies with lidded eyes.
Till language serves not thought, but fear —
And words grow ever less sincere.

So when such phrases cloud the page,
Distrust the voice, distrust the stage.
For wisdom bides in honest right —
Not in the dark they flaunt as light.