As we see our silence,
Growing into nothing,
I use this lack of words,
As my way to tell you something.
So as you must have figured out,
I’ve never been good with words,
I can tell you stories for a hundred years,
And never once being able to grasp their worth.
[I was trying to write a third
stanza for this poem but didn’t
wanna rush it and amybe ruin it]