Poetry

Words

Words.
They take my Pain,
Carry it on their Shoulder
And Free them Out in the World.
Much like I, myself, Could Never Do.
In a Way that I Never Ever Knew.

Words.
They take my Joy,
Ride on them, Gleefully,
And Spray them Over the Words
That they had carried on their Shoulder.
And They Shine Better as they get Older.

Words.
They Make me Free.
They Let me Flee.
The Burden Lightens
As they Leave my Body.
Everything Softens.
Everything Subsides.
Peace is All that is Left
For me to Deal with.
Then from the Scratch,
My Words Fight the Peace.
On their Own, Silently.
Then it All comes down to
Me, My Peace and My Words.
No chaos. No ruckus.
Nothing else but Just the Us.


Photo Credit: freephotocc

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