Words

With words I speak my doubt, What can I say all hollowed out. Of yet to see and not to. In desperation my thoughts continue. A ruptured task, I'm surely past. All that I knew would never last.
A disease of words, a murder of crows, a conversation of pacts, a simile grows. Collective nouns a wonder in passing. All that we wish is there for the asking. Words associate, we show to work. A useful thought silly and flirt too late and complacency jerk. The rope that ties we become, just what we hate. Down our thoughts we dance with glee, truth seldom wrought if you see what I see. A running list of propensity. A sickness of mind that delivers this truth that never surface in the follies of youth. That come only with age and a deal of experience. Some things we remember are never inference only folly and fools jumping a gate of deliverance.
Now heed this well you commentators of truth. The country of romance is not the prerequisite of youth.