Words Fall Short
Words
Fall Short
Quills
and scrolls and fading ink;
Dreams
and muses – what I think
Sketched
upon a crumbling page,
Ghostly
actors on the stage.
Ink
for dreams and words for thought:
What
I write is what I’m not.
Say,
are roses pink or gold?
Gold
is not pink, pink not bold.
Tell
a tale that never was,
“Not
like this, but more.” And thus
Try
so hard to make words paint
What
is real – but you can’t.
Insufficient
is the pen
To
encase the thoughts of men.
Inks
and pages fall so short;
Try
to write a broken heart.
No,
but words fail in the end,
Proving
we can but pretend.
1 people are talking about this
Ooooooooooh, I love the thought conveyed in this poem, even if we can't truly capture it. ;D
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