Words

By Devalacheruvu Ridhima

My thoughts and words harbour the world to me.

Vain and vapid to you as they may seem,

They are true and written from the heart,

That much I am sure of, clear in every part.

These are my words, my sword of choice,

To fight my evils, my loneliness, my frustration, my one true reprise.

To take my pen away would be akin to snatching away my soul,

To leave me a desolate husk, merely a wandering ghoul, with no goal.

With my mighty blade, I cut through the mist,

The shroud of disapproval; of purely adulterated bliss,

To talk about the painful, that leaves me writhing in my seat.

To learn more of the world, about myself, to the rhyme’s own beat.

By Devalacheruvu Ridhima