are tough enough,
and now you tell me to measure them in meter and rhyme.
To dress them, position them like fruit in a bowl.
Words, ink blots, charcoal smears, audibles,
never good enough, always second best.
tell me how to put fire words on a cold line,
tell me how to save the gut words that drown in my throat,
the ones that never reach my lips,
the ones that never leave my pen.