UnfeignedA Poem by Alisatake it is a lesson or don'tStrange and calm I like it when the print is small I have to squint, But at least it all fits on one page. Excess words are like a bug under my skin, Crawling through my arms like an unshakable shiver And I stare with eyes half closed, knowing she’ll find her way out When the time is right. Sometimes leaving the room isn’t an option. Words should be cradled. My mother always told me, never write something down if you don’t want it floating out there in the universe. Words are power. Power is noxious. Cradled with a careful hand and a warmed heart, We must hold no animus when speaking. Words are power Power is prestigious, Rude, ill-humored, restless. Words are like milk, Like an aloe plant on crippled skin. They are a bullet And a knife They are a glass of wine and a woolen blanket. My grandmother always told me a lady must be graceful with her words But not everyone knows how to make their words reflect the goodness of their minds. Not everyone can recognize a moment when a word should stay a thought. Not anyone is as careful as they should be, Not everyone’s unfeigned. And sometimes, words, altogether are not needed. Sometimes a glance will do the trick. Sometimes I like it better that way. Words are much too big a hassle, anyway. © 2019 AlisaFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorAlisaAmherst , MAAbout20, student. Constantly thinking, sometimes jotting, and always questioning. more..Writing
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