In every poem, I've read and yet to read,
There are the words you will always see.
Shadows and secrets, kept in quiet hearts,
Pain and emotions, and being torn apart.

In every stanza, and every verse,
Love and war, breaking down when everything hurts.
Butterflies and blades and echoing fears,
Dreams being lost and drowning in tears.

They're in all of the lyrics, sonnets, and haikus,
The existence of sorrows and what you could lose.
We escape the suffering, and all of the lies,
Death's of flowers, and glimmering eyes.

There are the words, that are always repeated,
We use them like weapons, when the battle gets heated.
They are our languages, of beginnings and ends,
This is what we scream when we've lost our friends.

Though they be overworked and overused,
They are our comfort when we're being abused.
These are the words of the abandoned races,
and the language we use to give meaning to emotionless faces.