The Problem With Words

The problem with words
Is that they wouldn’t obey. 
And you didn’t listen
To what the words didn’t say.

The problem with words
Is they get stuck.
Caught in my throat
And the words back up.

The problem with words
Is when they need to love, they hate.
Or they’re too soft, or too thin,
Or too little too late.

The problem with words
Is when I needed them, they failed.
And I stood there speechless,
Desperate and frail.

The problem with words
Is that they haunt me still.
All the words I could have said,
And didn’t, makes me ill.

The problem with words
Is they’re stubborn and vile.
So I set them free today,
And they gushed out for a while.

The problem with words
Is they wouldn’t stop pouring.
Hot wet words flew everywhere
Until the early morning.

The problem with words
Is they have left me so weak.
Crumpled and dying,
Not a word left to speak.

 

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