Words

The things that words can do. Usually don't do poetry.

Words are knives that cut and twist.
They hack and tear,
And leave you bare,
Broken and bleeding on the ground.
They fall from lips so effortless,
A never ending river
That winds and weaves
Through everything
Not caring what it drowns.
I'm gasping for air,
Surrounded by despair,
And the words, they trap me.
They pull on my hair
They drag me down,
And still I cannot leave.
My lungs are burning,
Yet, I cannot die.
And with no end in sight,
I watch as time slowly passes by,
With the words as my only company.
The words that taunt me, mock me, break me.
My own eternal torment.
But then one day,
I am saved,
By words that gave me wings.
They reeled me out,
And let me fly,
I can't remember the last time I was free.
I soar through blue skies,
Feeling so light,
Next to these beautiful words that saved me.
Below I can see
The angry waves
Of the river that had hurt me.
My wounds are still open,
And blood is still dripping,
But never had I felt so happy.
Words can break,
And words can heal,
And it never ceases to amaze me,
The power that all words yield.