xX.A.Poem.Of.Words.Xx

I type a word that runs like a torrent,
Falling.

I type a word that runs like a torrent,

Falling.

It's my hands that create the lies.

My fingers scribbling for a purpose.

False, to only emblazon the truth.

 

The broken ones in their fifth...

War.

A beating heart that laments.

 

The angel.

Male, rebelled, proud.

A better son of a beaten father.

Lying with a thought that trickles,

Like water, through a parched mind.

 

Words are always false,

A truth cannot be written.

Lines on a paper aren't a feeling,

That is us, the humans.

 

I promise.

The End

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