Words.

Words are my weapons,
For I use them like a warrior
As I fight for betterment and against mediocrity;
And my shield against silences, for they ensure
That nothing worth speaking is left unsaid.

Words are my world,
As they enable me to travel to the unknown places
I am yet to visit, in the universe of my imagination;
Cities and palaces to live in, seas to sail and forests to wade through,
Caves to explore and mountains to conquer.

Words are my magic as I weave threads
Of wonders and miracles
Of life and death, and the interim;
As I build and destroy magnificence
With a stroke and swipe of my wand on paper.

Words are my disguise, as I create impossible scenarios
And nonexistent emotions; create curtains and façades
For my demons to hide behind.
They provide a pseudonym for when
These demons arise and the mask falls off.
They channel the rivers of my mind into the mouth of the ocean.

Words are my instrument,
As I serenade lads and dames
With magical, mystical melodies to enchant them
Into an unconscious trance- and impose my ideologies
Into their thoughts as they debate, influenced,
My views an adversary to their own-
While swaying at the grace with which these are delivered.

Words are my strongest weakness, and my cursed strength,
For without them I lose half the meaning of my existence,
And the world would lose an individual.
For who reads beyond words, into the thoughts and emotions
Hidden in the silence, and the spaces between the lines.
But I do require those moments
Where words are lost and silence speaks,
For sometimes, words are redundant
And fail to grasp all there is to say.

Jan 29, 2015

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