Words are meant to be a treat for the soul,
They’re those little things which leave you in tatters or lift you all the way to Olympus
Beautiful, magical or even the unspoken thoughts
Repeating lines for emphasis
You’d come across various, rhyming in pronunciation
But these days it’s more about the sadness
And more about not rhyming
It’s about leaving it to the reader’s imagination
And leaving it abrupt
All those words of power which play with your minds
Leaving you with sleepless nights and dreamy days
See what I did there?
But writer’s don’t write awesome nor do they add spunk.
And maybe if they did, they’d be called drunk