Words are incantations that dance on the cold night wind
Words are incantations that dance on the cold night wind,
Striking deep into the heart of my world, shattering the light beneath my eyelids,
They slither like venomous snakes in the garden of tranquility, poisoning the air,
Drowning in silence the hope that flickers like a candle in the storm.
My bones may heal slowly under the spell of eternal time,
But the wounds of words remain like runes carved in stone,
Etching into the flesh a cold and endless pain, a hurricane of shadows,
That no heart can tame or drive away.
Some say "it's just a word," but they don't know the depth,
Where echoes resound like crushing thunder, shattering the silence,
The power of words spoken carelessly, lightning that slashes the sky,
Turning warm hearts into stone sculptures, cold and unmoving.
I carry invisible scars, chains of smoke that hold me captive in silence,
I smile like an actor on life's stage, but inside I am torn apart,
A betrayed soul, enveloped in the mist of loneliness and lost time,
Speak your words like poisoned arrows, and watch me lose my fragrance.
Sticks and stones may bruise the skin, but words crush the being,
Shattering the silence of dreams, leaving only echoes of deep pain,
I wander through thoughts like a forest of shadows and memories,
Seeking the light to show me the way to a long-lost peace.
I wonder when the morning will come that asks for nothing, just offers,
Silence in the quiet, gentle steps of a sunrise that does not judge,
A world where words are no longer swords, but flowers that embrace,
Bringing the peace of a clear summer sky to wandering souls.
Copyright © Dan Enache | Year Posted 2025
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