Words Are Short-Lived

Words are dying everyday As short-lived as when imagined A plead be a beseeching dismay Yet as lived... where have I been? Perhaps a little guidance for despair A foothold for the disappearing grounds To once more walk with a solemn flare And nevermore with fear to turn simply around Yet the more to will, I am not to see Of words begging a difference for someone to be A broken faith upon the unfounded me Remains only a founded me to never be free Where the world stands, I stand alone Misguided, misjudged, misunderstood and misgiven Where I stand, the world isn’t my home And with solitude... I ask yet to be forgiven Have I not have words if I may? As short-lived as forgettably imagined Where words are dying everyday And as lived... I could only have been