Words are like music,
a melody to your ears.
They provide you comfort
and relieve your fears.

Words are like knives,
straight through your heart.
They are like scissors,
cutting you apart.

Words are like puzzle pieces,
complicated and tough.
They are small and jumbled
with edges, rough.

Words are like the oceans
with their timeless age.
Yet they are of turbulent waves
and of fickle rage.

Words are like needle and thread,
sewing up the seams
of the torn bonds,
making the rips unseen.

Words are like rays of sun.
Shedding light when dark.
Spreading warmth when cold,
then disappearing without a mark.

Words are heard.
Words are spoken.
Some, they mend.
Some leave us broken.