All I Have Is My Words

They say; a word is just a word, but I think writers know better. To a writer letters and words are a gift given to us, so that we can make sense of the senseless. With them we are able to create great stories; stories of love, hate, desire, fear, life and of so much more. If a word is just a word, how come they are so important to us? How come they do hurt us? How come they do sooth us? How come they do make somewhat of a difference?
With the following collection of poems I hope that you too, dear reader will question the saying; a word is just a word, for it is not just a word is it?

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21. Demolished

Windows painted pitch black.

Letters revealing how we lost track.

Doors nailed to their frame.

Words that planted all the blame.

 

A house built,

The bricks shaped by guilt.

 

Floors tilted to the edge.

Pages bringing a wounded pledge.

Walls concealing a dying heart.

Sounds that only bring us apart.

 

A house demolished,

The shreds silently abolished.

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