i am not using words <br />as tools <br />i am the tool of the <br />word <br />as you see the <br />word <br />is writing me <br />it is making <br />me write to you <br />these lines <br />i am the tool of the <br />tricky words <br />that do not make me sleep <br />unless <br />they are finally put into <br />place <br />in a mattress of paper <br />where they <br />finally take <br />their final rest <br />even if you do not <br />mind <br />reading them <br /> <br />for in truth <br />what do they care? <br /> <br />not even about <br />you <br />but their restlessness <br />when they are <br />not put into <br />something meaningful <br />like souls condemned <br />to roam <br />into oblivion<br /><br />Sebastian Soberania<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/words-and-the-writer/
