Words

Words.

Writing words with scratchy pen

Round and round then back again

Just the sound of waters fall

Reminds me that I’m here at all

These scrawling words that no one reads

My thought my fears born here to seed

Who would care to delve this deep

And in their heart my words to keep

These tumbling words, the lonely phrase

Unjust, maligned in many ways

Thoughts so writ with scratchy pen

Go round and round, then back again.

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One thought on “Words

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