Words

Words

A thousand words inside your head
But not-a-one makes sense
They float around like lonely ghosts
Your brain their padded fence
You know what you are trying to say
But lack the heart or head
To verbalise or entertain
Through fear and mortal dread
Of being made to look the fool,
Incur the wrath of others
And so we quote some wise old saying
Given to us by our mothers
And all the while these words are there
And slowly they are dying
For we deprive them of their life
Not using or not trying
And in the end, the words will come
When you are in the ground
Spoken by some sad old friend
And you can’t make a sound…