Words become less of a story themselves

Than they are the story of the writer

The story of the battles unknowingly fought,

And, at the time, of seemingly unearned thought.

The depth with which one ponders--

A pen in one hand and pure shock in the other--

Wondering how they hear in their minds, words they do not remember

Ever learning from a teacher, mother, or father.

Language is craft, thought is art.

Poetry, the unification, forever sought

And words, the story of someone unknown

Seeds of someone wiser, better, are sown

Easy to forget, they're one in the same

Easy to forget, the main character's name

Easy to forget, to shoot then take aim

Easy to remember,

Any other time,

To constantly be ashamed.