WORDS CRY – A POEM
The ink of words scattered apart
The words cried,
Screaming and screaming.
The words lost
The taste of expression,
The fragrance of speech,
The melody of voice,
The mercy within a call.
The words lost
The roof of home.
The words cried.
A song of help,
The words kept calling,
A hand of support.
The words were struck,
They fell and shattered —
The ink of words scattered apart,
Covered in the paste of pain,
Stained in blood.
The words suffocated,
Their breaths grew weak,
Their eyes slowly closed,
And tears escaped
From those shut eyes
That had already witnessed
An entire life come to an end.
A single word
Could not survive this weight.
Some words stood far away,
Watching the spectacle.
Some words kept acting,
Pretending to exist.
Some words
Could no longer walk.
Some words were no longer words
They had become lines,
Definitions,
Identities.
The words scattered.
The words scattered.
— Author Note: Dears > 3 If these words resonated with you, if you felt something of your own in them, please consider contributing a coffee. It is a quiet motivation that helps me keep writing thanks for reading and being here:)
What stayed with me most was the feeling of language slowly losing its humanity.
As if words can survive long after their living voice disappears.
The roof of home... I have such a soft spot for words being treated like little tired creatures, and yours losing their roof? Made me want to scoop them up in a blanket, which is probably very dramatic of me but still.