I have always kept a lot of words,
Packed tight hidden in my crainum,
Locked away like a guilded cage for birds,
Or plotted in a pot like many a Gerinum,
Words for people, careful comments or advice,
A risky joke for want of better state,
A personal word bought for too high a price,
A word of inspiration that later art will create,
And many other words have I born & bled,
And a thousand different worlds could I in hand,
But often, with lament, saying words leave unsaid,
Where I am left in an unchanged room to stand;
That space of air I’ve always kissed,
The rosy moment lost and opportunity missed.
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