Words have
fettered, bettered
befeathered me,
with sifting, drifting

In singular
they huff and puff
and rough me up.

Graded, jaded
belated thoughts
are spewed into
my mind.

While pacing, chasing
racing words
are never
far behind.

Gingerly, gently
tenderly, deftly
from pen
to paper now.

With nary, contrary
a moments waste
they find their way

© RachelSent
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