some words breed as much pain, as silence does, they seep inside, and settle in, with a puncturing comfort,
reminding us of their existence, each time we forget.
they make sure, that they make our memories work,
and like a machine, they revise, reproduce, refurnish,
like music, they ring in our ears, reminding us of our sin, our evil, our act
and like a dagger they stab us, over and over
they act like quick sand, dissolving us in, as time moves on,
they replicate the task of a fire, where they shrivel us, leave burn marks, or sometimes, turn us to nothing but mere ashes
words have a despotic power, they alter us, explode in us, and drastically numb us
but not all words do...
those that work, are the ones coming out
of people we love...