The Art of Language

I wish sometimes, That I could fly away.

it's a pretty cliche thing to say, but every word I mean.

I want people to be able to 

grow hollow bones and

scatter at the first sign of bad weather.


I want to go back to the days when we were primitive.

when we were rudimentary.


people then knew nothing of words. 

only actions.

back then, only white knuckles or bare feet could hurt you.

You wouldn't have to worry about what they say

expecting the next blow to your heart

to be the one that brings you to tears.  

no, what you had to worry about

was the next punch to your innards.


it's amazing how far humanity has come

howver, it's amazing how fragile we still are. 


with language

just a single bite could tear you to shreds

leave you hurting forever.

we're sturdy bodies no doubt, but what's inside

is much more delicate.

I wish people knew that.

Poetry Slam: 
This poem is about: 
Our world


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