The thoughts I put on paper are very seldom true.
They are but dim reflections of a brighter point of view.
Dingy old expressions, told hundred times before.
Rearranged as poetry in hopes that they’d mean more.
What good are words that cannot stir?
And do not move the heart.
What good are words that do not speak?
And leave you feeling dark.
Words should make you happy.
They should tell you something new.
But I find this hard to manage,
When words are seldom true.