Brainless Flack

Back when she read more, her allusions weren't so slack.
She's been sullied; I've no illusions she'll go back.
She now works for a churl—a yes-girl who'll brown-nose.
She's got it in her head, she writes meaningful prose.

She once was bright and smart—now she's a brainless flack.
It's flowers she describes, but it smells like a sack.
She is writing deks and heds that slickly worm their way
Into the morning paper's business section—front page!

At first she tried to sell; she didn't have the knack.
Now she's a PR whore; she's just a brainless flack.
It's all made up anyway—she just likes to play with facts.
But she can't place all her fluff; some editors redact.

The more she schemes, the more she churns out deeper doo.
But lack of fact-checking got her into a stew.
Another lawsuit's brought; she already settling one.
She looks like a saint when compared to her lawyer scum.

Back when she read more, her allusions weren't so slack.
She's been sullied; I've no illusions she'll go back.
She now works for a churl—a yes-girl who'll brown-nose.
She's got it in her head, she writes meaningful prose.

Blah, blah, blah. . . .

Now she is just a brainless, brainless flack—
Lacks insight, lacking soul.
She used to be such fun; now each thought is a lie.
Now she is just a brainless, brainless, brainless, brainless flack.
Argh!