Words, the eternal overacheivers
Promise much but deliver precious little
The more they number, the less they convey
Rare is the man of few of these!
Words, the ancient pretenders
Feelings' kins they claim to be
Dawn breaks; mere orphans we see
Empty Letters call Isolation home
Words, the vagrant race
Nomads preying on falible souls
Settling on ears gullible
Perverting the heart's emotions
Words, the insidious rulers
Saints turn sinners from their wise counsel
Wars rage on from their divisive schemes
Rare is the craftsman who moulds them well!
