The Problem With Words

The problem with words

Is that they wouldn’t obey.

And you didn’t listen

To what the words didn’t say.

The problem with words

Is they get stuck.

Caught in my throat

And the words back up.

The problem with words

Is when they need to love, they hate.

Or they’re too soft, or too thin,

Or too little too late.

The problem with words

Is when I needed them, they failed.

And I stood there speechless,

Desperate and frail.

The problem with words

Is that they haunt me still.

All the words I could have said,

And didn’t, makes me ill.

The problem with words

Is they’re stubborn and vile.

So I set them free today,

And they gushed out for a while.

The problem with words

Is they wouldn’t stop pouring.

Hot wet words flew everywhere

Until the early morning.

The problem with words

Is they have left me so weak.

Crumpled and dying,

Not a word left to speak.