Words. They’re like… polished diamonds, right?
Sparkling, yeah, but they cut deep, you know?
Shakespeare, and Keats, played the game,
Weaving magic with syllables and building empires with rhymes,
But… beware the sting.
Words can be weapons,
Sharp as knives, they leave scars.
A barb, a jibe, a cutting phrase,
And suddenly… the world turns gray.
But, wait! They can heal, too.
Words like a...
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