Word Weaver


Give me your words

   Your empty phrases

      And I will make them sing.

Give me your nightmares

   Your wildest dreams

      And I will make them real.

 But make me speak words of my own

   And they will fall upon empty ears.

For I am the Word Weaver

   Beloved by all!

But alas, I am cursed.

For I can spin the words of others

   But can no longer speak my own.

Don't cry though, I am blessed

For I can tell the stories

   Of those whose tales go unheard.

I can be the voice for all

   Who go voiceless in this world.

And I can also be the voice of those

   Who are always heard

      But not in the way they wish to be.

I am the Word Weaver

   Beloved by all

      Cursed yet blessed

         The voice of the voiceless.

Poetry Slam: 


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