Words

I play with words,
Same way the life plays with me,

Taking me through high's and lows,
The way I use calligraphy.

Words are like fire,
A means to express my desires,

Only the fragments remain,
Sharp and broken.

Twisting and turning,
I draw a letter,

These lines of fate,
A question for the gray matter.

I join these letters,
In an attempt to write a sentence,

Life gets the better of me,
Throwing me off balance in a pretence.

I try to finish what I write,
Think what I wrote should suffice,

There Is so much yet to be discovered,
Chained in shackles yet to be bewildered.