These words.
These seemingly futile words.
They're all I have.

These consonants and vowels
taking up space
in your full-capacity life.
It's all I can do.

All of my letters combined
are battling all of these
busy days that have you in
a choke-hold.

I'm doing this.
Because it's all I want to do.
To give you all of me.
Everything I am.
Everything I've ever been.
Everything I can be.
In the only way that I know how.

But, ****.
You have other things to do
than listen to some
silly little words.