Words elude me—
not in their finding, no,
that is fantastically, fanatically, frantically feasible.
It is the weaving that betrays me,
the thread slipping past my fingertips,
spilling to the ground,
where it frays, sullied, lost in translation.
What we feel is not what we think.
What we think is never what we say.
What we say is never what they hear.
What they hear is never what they understand.
Diction dissolves into fiction.
Syntax fractures.
A single misplaced sentence—
no, a word,
a modifier—
and my world unravels.
So, I shall dance,
speak in dreary formality,
and let silence say what words cannot.
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Author:
-DR (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 27th, 2025 13:43
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments2
A great message sent in some very good lines. Loved it
A wonderful write, and sometimes you can say more when you say nothing at all, enjoyed the read
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