They say words mean so much
That they can heal or destroy
All that I have ever felt is
Destroyed by words
I am not built by them
I am taken down and raked in the coals
People don’t mince words with me
They stab me and torture me with words
Yet words are sometimes my only friends
Not always in the form of speech
But mostly in the form of writing
Words are hard to say
But so easy to write
The words they pour out through my finger tips
Never slowing, never stopping to play it safe
When I write I don’t have to hide behind
Soft, downy words meant to lift
I can say all that I mean
Through these tainted fingertips
Leaving you stunned and breathless
Or at least that is what I hope for
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem