Writing her words, could not express,
the pain she feels deep in her chest.
Infinite thirst with endless stress,
reaching for an unknown conquest.
She rights her words, to no avail,
knowing that her attempts will fail.
Crawling along, slow as a snail,
walking on a revolving trail.
Words have no value or no use,
they only serve as blurry clues.
They knot up well, twist and confuse,
still they produce a distinct view.
She swallows every word she reads,
they grow inside, like planted seeds.
Learning more words becomes a need,
addiction that she must now feed.
Words understand her soul and mind,
a best friend that never declines.
They showcase what her heart combines,
reveal what she has kept inside.
Without a word, life becomes noise,
cocktails of sounds made with a voice.
Instant relief, she could rejoice,
knowing that words provide a choice.
– Grace Y. Estevez Reddy