My poems spout words,
With understanding belonging to me
The words war on each other,
Clashing their swords and drawing blood
Never shall thee peace treaty be signed,
After all we all know that they will ignore that too,
The words are at a constant battle
Never flowing like a fluid stream,
Or depicting beauty for you and me
They mix and jumble
Twist and turn,
Fall and stumble,
Learn and burn
The comprehension
Of the meaning,
Is limited- at that
The words stand for their loss of knowledge
And their stand for idiocracy
My mind is full of dead ends,
Darn those twists and turns
The words speak to me,
Pleading their reason of understanding,
As a servant I obligingly obey,
My step full of doubt
So read my poems
Insult them
Hate them
Love them
I don’t care,
They are my reason,
They are my sanity,
They are my pain,
They are my hate,
They are my love,
They are my anger,
But- most of all-
They are ME
