Ah! The spouting of words!
How people can talk so, yet say very little
These half truths, these white lies
Spouting from thier mouths, in a rush of water
How can they believe what they speak?
Such trivial people.

But what of the thinker? The writer? The artist?
These lovers, these poets, these outcasts and dreamers?
What, with their "sin" and their pleasure, their suffer and pain?
How are they viewed, by trivial people?
"Why, absurd! Appauling! Ridiculous! These people, their struggle! Pointless! Rot all the same!"

What say you, the lover, the artist, the hurt and the lost?
"Why are we hated for our thoughts and our feelings?
Have they no empathy, for us, who bleed for them?
We, who act as they opress and stand still, talking! Talking!
Such dribble they spout!"

Ah, the words. The words! Flowing so fast they are lost in the current!
Left alone, this current of words is useless.
Put it to use, you writer, you artist, you thinker, you dreamer!
Listen fully, but believe only half-heartedly, and then, then maybe you can control the current.