When I want to say something,
I want to say it well,
With well-chosen words
Like a wizard’s spell.
I want them to work magic
While at least conveying my intent.
Simply but beautifully,
Giving form to my content.
So I think a lot,
About how I can say things best.
But this takes quite some time to do,
And I’m left behind all the rest.
But I was told that words have power,
That the pen is mightier than the sword.
But I also heard that words are wind,
Rising beneath the wings of the cunning bird.
I realise my magic is trapped by own idea of good and bad,
And seems to most to be a cause lost.
So if I decide to fly at last as a free bird,
I can unleash that power but at what cost?
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