Words are tender truncheons that often are disguised,
As too familiar gallows, that we're dragged to in the night;
Penance on pedestals, till morning's dreary light..
Everything we try to say's transparent or too trite.
...
Read full text
Words are this and so much more. I love this poem, it almost makes too much sense. I sometimes think I would be much happier in this world if there was a lack of words, and then I read poetry like this, and I know all the things people can say are worth the hurt to see such beautiful art, if only for a minute. Thank you.