These nonsense words
Express our emotions.
The words we so despise
Are the only friends we have.
And should the day come
When the words just disappear,
We will finally have something
To write about.
Now, you feed on our pain and tragedy,
As we leave a lasting impression
On a world that cannot care,
Will not care,
Does not know
Who we are, were,
Will be.
We live our lives on the deadened
Nourishment of language,
Being sucked lifeless, emotionless
By those that choose not to see.
And if language finally gives up,
We perish.
A poet’s one true tragedy
Is himself.
