Words are uncatchable, fleeting Soft and sharp To heal your wounds and break your heart They can be smoothed and polished to perfection Or sharpened to create a deadly perforation Make them shimmer and glitter like sparks of light Or cast a gloom of perpetual night Weave them, hold them, string them up Taint them, paint them, but never use them up They can be cold and cruel and hard and dark And kind and warm and bind our hearts They're twistable, kissable, catchings of glee Embrodiery in the mighty world tree Enhancements which dull the melancholy humm Of work and stress and all things dumb I'll use them, abuse them, fill them with me Pay people with words and words with seas Of amazing knowledge and words of grandeur They'll always be rich and never be poor Words are my forte, my intricate strength But for you, I have no words left.
A third and final old poem I wrote a while back :)