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Words
Words elude me,
hiding in plain sight
and then running as soon as I spot them.
A chase ensues,
that crosses the world
in only a few seconds.
And then,
out of no where,
all words come out of hiding,
and I’m in a world of words.
Everything is made up of words,
trees,
birds,
the grass,
everything resembles and Concrete poem.
And as I look down upon my hands,
I realize that I, too,
am made up of words.
So I then end my chase
and use the words that are within me,
and I amaze the world,
with me.
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