Ink Stained Pages

A poem about the power of words

Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash

Words have fangs as piercing as razors,
A weapon sought to kill.
A frigid hand that reaches the soul,
born from the fatal blow of wordy skill.

All it takes to craft a spear is to utter,
To miss the mark is a brief stutter.
To form an arrow is a tip of a pen,
To shoot is a shift of a hand.

Words peppered in a language unknown,
Written under the stars alone.
A burst of emotions
Swelled or calmed by sudden notions.

Little letters, large consequences
By words that hold a flavor.
Some are bitter,
Others are sweeter.

All written in discreet phrases,
Within ink-stained pages.