Words short poem

Photo by Juan Lauriente

And my words won’t move you,
Neither do I pretend to,
To move some pound of flesh,
Nor I care too.

And these words would fight,
Entangling within themselves,
They would corrupt souls,
And dwell upon a spell.

They would laugh,
They would cry,
Building the plots,
Here they would lie.

And those plots will reveal,
A dreaded hell of a scene,
Stories of masses,
Which remained quite unseen.

Beauty it stands there,
Laughing at its own irony,
Neither having soul, nor grace,
Nor any other such felonies.
Words do tell,
They reveal omens,
Breaking the spirits of,
Even the mightiest men.

Words build motions,
Motions turn into theories,
Of dwelling battles,
Of unnerving stories.

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Pranay Kumar

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Hard work will pay off, Dreams will come true, Bad times don't last for long, But bad guys do....
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