Words Remain
Delicate words etch themselves into me
The letters, they split,
Creating a mold we call skin
The runes, they dissolve,
Creating a sound we call voice
And we become one.
I am molded of letters
And made up of words;
The beautiful, the sweet, the melodic
And one day when I am gone
My words will encompass the bodies of others
And the world will never forget