They're just words
characters on a dusty old page
knives spat into someone's back
waves washing over their heads
In one ear
Out the other
Unless of course they fell
like rain
on deaf ones
Ringing
Stinging
Their they're there
Whispers, screams, and all in between
Causing pain or revelation
Thousands of languages, some of them dead
Hollow, rich
Biting sarcasm to a lover's caress
They're just words...