Words Are Silent


Dost frail resolve last
amid erosions of colloquials-
the everyday rise and fall
which loosens vows of past?

Nay, says the wise man
to swear is the work of babes,
promise to compromise slow decays,
words are formed by charlatans.

Though we speak, words are silent,
unheard rage no memory,
continue stoic monotony,
while future mimics present.

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