When Words Fail

Where are my words?

I know they don't come from my heart 

They are riddled with lies and half truths

My heart is revolted by them

They don't spring from my head,

My brain is made of numbers and scientific certainty 

But my words are made of magic


Are they in my fingers as I type,

Picking out a rhythm on the keyboard

With no volition but their own?

Or do I pluck them from the air

Snips of other's conversations

Woven to suit me?


Why is it that they come when I don't want them,

When poetry is not the answer I need

But I can't stop the words

They are a wall of water and the floodgates are no where to be found

So I hide and wait for the words to pass

They haunt my mind and my memory 

And they will not go away

Except for the ones that I want to stay

Which flee like snowflakes before a fire


And when I need them on my side

And call them from whichever depths they arise

The wrong ones stumble forth

Leaving me to wonder if I ever had the right ones to begin with

I need new words

I'm no Shakespeare but I'd like to more than the girl who only opens her mouth when there is nothing there to come out of it

Where are my words?

This poem is about: 


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