A stanza can not stop the hand of death
The reaper rips across the paper sheet
A stanza can not save a life with breath
To drown a person choking words they eat
A quatrain can not calm the bawls of hell
The quatrain will not save a wretched soul
A quatrain can not cure a cancer cell
It spreads across the ink to kill the whole
A poem can not heal an open sore
The lesion bleeds profusely through the page
A poem can not fight a viral spore
The words will fail the brawl of virus rage
Why must my words of thought be written down
They can’t perform an act to shine profound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem answers your question 'Why must my words of thought be written down? ' Keep writing!