Words

It swims within variety,

As if it were an ocean,

From sorrow to prosperity,

The image and emotion,

 

When the words make me cry,

I know I shouldn’t be afraid,

They sink and they fly,

And their message can degrade,

 

When the words make me smile,

In this ramshackled shell,

In a metaphoric style,

my heart just seems to swell,

 

It’s different for everyone,

Words are only a perception,

Some appeal to almost anyone,

Some persuade a misconception,

 

When panic plagues my mind,

Words will give me subtle solace,

They’re constructive and aligned,

And they live to serve a purpose.

 

There’s a reason poets cry,

And writers drink themselves to sleep,

Compassion pours out from their mind,

And it thrives when it’s in ink.

 

There’s a reason poets sing,

And writers kiss under the moon,

Just like winter, just like spring,

Despite their sorrow they can bloom,

 

Words are a necessity,

The foundation of our language,

Some provide them breathlessly,

While others sit in anguish.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression. Always let poetry fill your life. 

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741