Simple ideas flow from my head and out of my pen,
Words, describe how I feel, look, and act,
Words, I recall them, I whisper them, I hurt people with them, make rumors, and talk gossip with them, I miss use them, I regret them, I hate them,
Then other times I love them, I lose them, and accept them, define them, and neglect them,
They are invisible, but yet beautiful, comforting, but not even there, they put rhythm and beat into a phrase, they put color into the air,
They are little things we write, speak, sing, or yell ever day to express our selves in our very own ways.
