Words can come at such an invaluable price,
The ability to express yourself through words,
Struggling with the stories that need to be told,
The starts and stops,
And crumpled up papers.
The poetry shred into confetti,
Because it makes better sense that way.
That whatever words take form,
Will be imprinted forever,
No matter how inadequate they are,
They might morph into the unexpected later.
Where oh where do I begin?