The words may scarry, been unspoken,
When they are holding their breaths,
And cant't begin without pretext,
Been used, pronounced, even broken.

Those were the tears, the worry, the disease,
Words bring you up, with them you cease.
Plentiful people, word abundance.
Once some of them come through your mouth.

There's nothing genuinely new, not beauties
                                            neither mutineers.
There's no such prospect or a view,
                               which people didn't come across.
But only rhyme and mighty verse
Make carving touch of soul unlost.