Words
One thousand words want to slip from my mouth.
Words of hate, words of love, they're all the same.
Words blending, meshing into one incoherent sound.
Too many mixed feelings, mashed into one.
I talk to God, but no words come out.
I pray for strength, and end up falling.
I beg for forgiveness, but hate pours out.
We are all victims of ourselves.
We all find ways to bring ourselves lower.
We all speak and think this language,
The lexicon of self-hate, of loathing.
We all suffer from our own guilt.
We all drown in our own emotion.
We all dwell within ourselves,
The echoes of who we could be.
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Nightshade-444
“Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will eventually rust.” - Sun Tzu
View all poems →▾ This Poem's Voice
Your Poem's Voice
PersonalThemeAbstract
Personal suffering explored through philosophical universal claims about human nature.
SparseMeasureDense
Multiple interconnected ideas per 10 lines: speech failure, prayer, self-victimization, collective guilt.
DarkSentimentBright
Strongly negative: hate, falling, loathing, drowning, echoes of lost potential dominate.
StillEnergyExplosive
Intense emotional turbulence but meditative pacing; controlled despair rather than explosive.
MicroLengthEpic
16 lines falls within 16-30 range.
PlainFigurativeOrnamented
Blending/meshing, drowning, echoes, lexicon as extended metaphors; rich ornamentation.
LyricVoiceDramatic
Primarily lyric internal voice shifts to collective 'we' perspective; minimal dramatic distance.
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