All the words that I have ever spoken
Add up to nothing when I think of you.
Not that words should have sums or anything.
But if we would have our prayers come true,
We might look further than the simple frame
Of verses and prose with which we make do.
Nothing says it like a poem, false or true.
We all lie. But who cares how the crime
Was committed. We're older than we know.
We all come from somewhere, or say we don't.
There's not much help that words can give us.
And we should not expect them to do more.
It's only an illusion that we talk at all.
Or write it down to defend our doom.