Poison in your words
Words are the storm,
That imprints itself for eternity to come,
Even though they fade away and loose form,
When the waves trudge over to deform,
They stuck to us, never reform.
The feelings that you poured,
On the blank spaces that wriggled,
A canopy so dense that we gradually faded,
The ink was the decisive nail on the wood that had rotted.
Maybe the words were too much or too little,
But they came scurring,cutting the wind to cripple,
A sword you wielded for offence to crush us to brittle,
And now it's a barren land so infertile even to shovel.