Words

Words that don't fly with the wind,
are like stakes in the heart,
bleeding profusely from a deep wound,
in a rough sea.
Words that hide secrets,
capable of leaving cracks in the soul.
Sometimes indelible footprints,
are full of cruelty,
that cause great pain.
A cracked ice sheet remains;
black words painted white,
hides the real weather.
But at the end of the icy horizon,
the polar aurora indicates a path
with its bright light,
and it says in the horizontal line,
hope is found.

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Digital image created by @xpilar.

Competition 26: https://steemit.com/art/@xpilar/the-image-is-made-of-own-imagination-and-thoughts-competition-26

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