Words

words are just words, right? wrong. words will never be just words. sometimes, words are like knives. sharp and cold. made by man to slash, cut and hurt. weapons that we keep at home, using them daily to chop food and cut rope, forgetting that you could cut your throat with it if you wanted to. when I was younger, I was taught two things; that my tongue was as sharp as a knife and that I should never play with knives. But, sometimes, words are like blankets. soft and warm. comforting. made by man to protect man from the cold. my best friend when I was little, the only thing that could get me to go to sleep when the night wasn't so young anymore and when my eyes got tired of being awake. my mother used to say that sometimes her heart gets tired of feeling, sometimes it craves numbness, and I remember wanting to wrap it up with my favourite blanket. thinking that maybe it'll protect her heart like how it used to protect me. but I am all grown up now. I've learned how to sleep without my blanket and I've learned how to destroy knives with swords. but it doesn't matter how old I get or how much I've learned. Words will never be just words.