Words could be sometimes a flower;
Sweetly scented;
Loved and cherised.
But,
Words could be like an empty sheet;
Useful but never rightly used.
It could be a tool,
A sharp knife that kills hundreds of heart;
Bleed it to death,
Tortured it in pain.
The irony of words;
It builds you,
For your life to be destroyed.
Words are beautiful scenery
That creates a chaos entity.
When words are only left in the past,
And are not meant to last,
The memory will swallow you,
And leave you;
Hanging and not breathing.
Cause words are ocassionally meant in the beginning,
Not for ending.
Please leave a comment. Thank you and have a great day ahead.
-Chaos
