Words Can Play

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Where is the meaning

Words can play

And pause

Rhyme and cross

But I mourn the loss

Of the passion

All of the rebel yell

The strained scream

But none of the heart

The words are dulled

Without the point

Herding Hurt

Sometimes with narration,
Unlike poetry
The sentences hurt,
You can feel them leave your body like thorns
Or splinters.
Or maybe we’re the wood
And prose is the axe man
splitting us into dozens of tiny pieces
Before throwing us on the fire
And using us as kindling.