words, you reap and sow them,
so with words i am writing a poem.
words are harsh at times,
just like ugly, janky rhymes.
sometimes we use them to plot,
and it turns out those feelings churn in our stomach as a knot.
to believe words is an inclination to trust,
but without trust a relationship can decay and rust.
how is it that i can't articulate,
the words that get mechanical and perpetuate.
honesty with words is something new,
but you don't see that my honesty is something you already have seen and knew.
if we are our words then who are our actions,
and why do we act with different reactions?