I, a collection of words
embedded in a form,
can alter your state of thought,
and transform your mood.

My breaks are your breaths
and my comma's,
delegate your hesitation.
My predictions irritate you.

When I speak of mouth-watering,
hot off-the-grill, cheese smothered,
bacon covered burgers,
you crave.

Or I can remind you of starving children,
riddled with curable diseases,
dying daily from hunger and hopelessness,
and I can make you sad.

Imagine a burning hot iron, glowing red,
being brought to your skin, and you cannot move.
You can feel the hairs on your arm curling,
and smell the flesh as you watch it melt and peel away.

Me, a group of words, can cause you physical pain,
or emotional; when I talk about your passed loved ones.
I am not so cruel; I would rather remind you of love,
and your very first time.

I can say, "sticks and stones,"
but they will never hurt you.
Though when I speak to your soul,
it's like I tear right through.

I decide how you feel.
I move you without moving.
Am I something lifeless?
I, a collection of words.

08/13/2014

Posted on 08/13/2014
Copyright © 2024 Jody Pratt