This is a new poem I wrote. It’s called Words, and I wrote it for someone who read worrds today that weren’t the nicest. THIS POST HAS BEEN EDITED.
Words pour out of my mouth,
Like the tide pours onto a beach,
Sometimes those words are as sweet as strawberries,
Or as spur as bleach.
Sometimes words put a smile on your face,
That is fifty metres wide.
Sometimes words make you look stronger,
BUt you’re crumbling on the inside.
Words can be soft,
Gentle kind things,
Or sharp as a sword,
Ready to poke and sting.
Ready for action,
Ready for hurt,
Ready to leave you,
Sprawling in the dirt.
They can be typed,
They can be said,
They can leave you for hours,
Crying in your bed.
They can make your life good,
Or make your life hell.
They can make you feel terrible,
Or make you feel swell.
BUt at the end of the day they’re words,
Beautiful, magical, hurtful, foul words.
All my words,
Pouring out like water from a bottle,
Hurting you, mocking you.
And for that,
I’m sorry.