Where shall I meet the words
to know me;
when all places have heard
about me;
they must've gone somewhere
without me;
or they have met someone
who's not me;
why's it when they appear,
it's lighter;
but when they aren't here,
it's heavier;
when all it's but a sphere
so battered;
a void where nothing mere
lives hunger;
for words to meet their needs
their mother;
to make some sense at least
yet bothered;
that's longing been for years
so sober;
for only words don't fear
its power.
