I've always thought
I was gonna write something
That hits right in the bullseye,
Never knowing that words are slick, fragile,
And so slippery that meanings always fall off without warning.
So I try so hard to coil them in a bundle,
My thoughts in every fabric,
Hoping that my message comes across
Exactly how I mean it.
But words do corrupt, even to itself,
No one's immune to the darkness words bring.
Someone is bound to catch my message
And misunderstand it to hell.
I just thought it was cool,
Writing poetry like it's one of my lifelines.
But I never had the temperament to polish my creations,
Since it's been so long since I was at my best condition.
Instead, I throw them all away like paper planes in the wind.
Where they go, where they die, I don't know.
Sometimes I just want to end it all,
A full stop to everything that makes my lips roll.
But if words lose their meaning,
And very soon, their purpose,
Then what use will our mouths have
Other than an ingestion entrance?
But it's better than living around lies, right?
A world of silence beats a world of misdirection,
A world of actions beats a world of false promises.
A world without words beats a world of lies.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of A Count
PoetryThis book is not suitable for audiences with zero percent sense of imagination and a mental age of two and below. I'm not really a great poet, just a guy who knows how to hold the pen and write the twenty six letters of the alphabet. But I like thin...
