some unsaid particles that die on lips

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Sometimes,

  words die in nests,

  where from they had hatched, 

was a just a white hollowness.  

  they scatter in death ,

  until a vulture flies by, 

with a gnawing pain of appetite, 

to prey on dead lies, 

that will feed his empty stomach;    

  and thats how words shall die,

  blessing a mortal,

Granting hopes and lies to thrive

  sometimes, 

they scatter on leafless branches,

  they waste themselves on weeping poets' dust bins, 

the blot themselves when solitude encircles land, 

an unspoken commotion of an avoided rant.

the die on keys of vintage typewriters,

in some orange diary, or on a scroll of a fighter. 

  sometimes,

  words fail to address, 

you swallow them in fears, 

or misuse vague metaphors;

they die within eyes of somebody,

  and trace their way back to  an unsung melody.

  they dissolve in ink of blood, 

written on gnarled walls of hearts, 

but its painted    in a language that may not

be   comprehended or grasped.

   

  sometimes, 

they lie on heaps of stones which disintegrate on the ground,

  washed with tears of clouds,

  which then scorch in dryness of sand, 

under the sun's desolate land.  

   sometimes,

  the words drown at the sea, 

like a marine's promise to his wife to return home,

which he might not keep. 

they blow in winds to inspire lovers   at the beach, 

they stretch enough to make lips smile,

  which shall loosen its elasticity, 

as soon as they leave; 

so i keep questioning you in repetition 

why do words die in promises,  

fulfilling treachery?    

sometimes,

these words make incisions,

  antonyms that might heal the gash,

  but not in a fake speech that is scented with flowers,

  which is unable to separate the truth from trash.  

 such barbaric our decisions shall be,  

after prolonged trials and self contradictions; 

loopholes to blackholes  in which we bury our words, 

some might be guilty of war, 

some   'should haves" and  "would haves" that may clasp death  with regret,

some murdered in cold blood, 

some wasted in away in perfection of time 

all of them rot in here combined.     

always, 

words shall die within me,

  words shall die within you, 

and yet they were to thrive, 

they should breed within an 'us'

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⏰ Last updated: Mar 21, 2018 ⏰

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