Beautiful words don't come from golden sunsets
Or from silhouetted perfect moments in time.
Beautiful words come from the harkening souls
That once seemed yours and mine.
And as our biological clocks tick
And from Man's puzzled minds
Arise dreams of love and crimes
Of pure passion, like an unrelenting itch.
So we ponder over ourselves for that flawless word;
For that poetic response.
To see if we are who we truly desire, secretly crave.
We begin soul searching because we hurt...
And so beautiful words are summoned from lack of feelings-or perhaps the overwhelming power of it.
They arise from years
Of heart break and blood, sweat, and tears.
Beautiful words illustrate an image flawlessly, but sickeningly sit.
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