A library full of books,
is nothing more than ‘stuff’,
though all those words have wisdom,
all those words are not enough.
Words can cut like daggers,
they can shatter beyond broken,
words can be allies, enemies, and tools,
but words can’t be unspoken.
The floor dissolved into thin air,
left me falling, falling, falling,
I dreaded the wound, that my words had torn,
I was calling, calling, calling.
I poured my heart into a poem,
desperate for the tear to be bonded,
I mixed my soul into that paper,
waited, and then you responded.
“my mind begs to forgive you”,
the words weaved into a rope,
a beacon, an exit from the darkness,
my heart swelled with hope.
“my heart differs”,
the word sliced my rope to strings,
I didn’t know how long I’d last,
what would the darkness bring.
I don’t blame you in the slightest way,
I’ll empty your ocean with a cup,
that beautiful wall my bullets tore down,
I’m here, we can build it back up.
Drops of water cannot soothe a forest fire,
oceans of fury will always crash and will churn,
forests of guilt cannot be chopped down,
I’ll try, until your heart does not burn.
And though you may not hear me,
I’m fighting, climbing, calling,
and until I find a hopeful rope,
I’ll be here, falling, falling, falling.