Words

Words
are sharper swords
they cut and injure
shout and whisper
they heal and wound
with a break they bound
they make the time still
yet they turn you around
they make you laugh
or even cry
leave you always to wonder why
bullets of raw pain
floods of savage rain
thrown away burdens
promises in vain
they fly you high
and let you die
million times alive
they hold you by
then watch you dry
swept by a reply
like a cold bladed knife
as sharp as they can get
they are wrapped in a silky set
poisoned and curing
for the most enduring
listening to them shout
leaning to their whispers
arranged letters in million tongues
few are cowards and some are risky stunts.