They’re only words

Steer clear from rappers, for they are over-confidently liberal with words.

Don’t stand too close to a writer for he’ll rewrite your body in a 100 lined prose.

That poet over there? Dear, close the door.

Its flattering yes, to some extent.

but to pay the price for what they have to say, its just something you can not afford to keep on spending, as it never ends, never fills their wells of literal expression.

They create, they share, they anticipate your emotional reflection, shock or rejection.

but truly, to think of what they think of, how all these scenes come up, where do these feelings sprout from.

We paint portraits, we speak of narratives, we build gates around something in our conscious. Things which can’t be sheltered in our reality, so they remain on paper, reflect only on lit pixel screens.

You finish expressing, and by that time there’s nothing left in you to give, because you’ve given it all away with words for free.

That guru playing alchemy with words is no sorcerer, only an empty vase that’s poured out all it’s wine, and been sat out to dry.

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