Words create pillows to land when someone feels fatigue and seeking to be seen.
Words implant mines throughout the maze of ones thoughts, only to explode one day. To maim and change.
Words seem to silence chaos with tulle and cotton candy, or with a defening roar of truths too painful for ones soul.
A spell will be woven, sometimes with an innocent ambivalence. I forget, too often, the power words wield.
Something simple like a passing thought hooks into others, outside of my control. Soon ropes coil around them and I am left to wonder who holds the other side.
To control the power to shape minds is to create a loose thread that wants to be tugged. Words are my weapon and my shield.
Held close to my breast and waiting with bated breath, I often wonder who will fall unfortunate victim to another unplanned war within themselves.
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
