my words aren't stable.
They shake upon the nibble of pen before i let loose madness.
They don't frolick around in dresses of blue
over meadows and dews
but they battle and ambush
over my days filled with hues
so i use them as crutch over
my battles with my crew
Only a few know my brave soliders
Only few remeber their name too
I call it - poetry, paragraph, essay
A wording, a doc, a memoir
yet they all bleed words the same
leaving them all insane
yet here i give them space to breathe
they probably see it as debris