Poetry are words
That cannot heal the pain
They can describe it, well, in full detail
Unshackled, bound by chains
If used proper and correctly
They can change a point of view
Attain what they’re after
In whichever form they choose
But that defeats the purpose
Of their task, their common goal
That holds with it, the meaning
Of every living soul
A comparable ambivalence
On a common level ground
That echoes what’s inside of us
And lifts us when we’re down