What are words?
Things you mutter to yourself, softly
And alone. Vague thoughts that end abruptly,
While you cry and rage and scream.
When you tell yourself your favourite dreams
And whisper assurance to the mirror,
Or your lips move to make things clearer
Only for yourself, when vengeful threats are in the same breath uttered
As pledges of adoration and love helplessly sputtered;
Then you know words.
To speak to yourself and face the uncaring dark void
With words meaningless but fraught with feeling
Is but preparation to meet face to living face
And open the mouth
To speak the mind
And find the
Words are
Vanished.
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