They never cared for my words. Not when i dotted them with

Gorgeous gems. Not when i lined the passages with lyrical lessons.

They were words borne in a chasm where feelings and heart reside.

They were sentences from a brain punched in the cortex by pressure’s sledgehammers.

They were unworthy jewellery, beautiful and polished in an otherworldly way, but

Not worth the sky-high prices that more often than not, shoot over mossy heads, never

A guest to a loving heart. 

Are my words worthy? Do hearts flutter and tear at my words? Do pupils dilate and fill 

With awe upon my phrases? Do ears hear melodies and gongs in the nooks and crannies

Of my poetry? Do souls reply powerful symphonies at my rich prose?

(Cheap and fragile, my sentences flutter away, punctuation is the loyal pal pinning

Them to makeshift homes.)

Will they ever find a home for my words, in pages dotted with loved poetry,

Will hearts ever volunteer as hotels for what i have to offer?

Am i clamouring to steal emotions and logic, stealing shoulders only

to realise they are knee caps?

The world dwarfs me, i am a clueless soldier to its cold gates.