WORDS
They call me as words,
Yet use me as swords,
To stab and hurt others,
Till their heart withers.
Some want to expertise,
Yet, some often improvise,
Some express their feelings,
Some use me for healings;
Sages prefer my absence,
To savor the serene silence;
Lo! Thousands of me fail,
Before a single pleasant smile!
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top