Words



Words are echoing in my mind.
There is no coherent thought in it.

They just jump around in an urge to get out. 
Me first me first, they say.
They don't realise they aren't ready to walk on their own.
They have to stand behind an idea and grow.
Or they are mere words without a soul.

Few are bit more wiser than the rest.
They group with their half brothers and create unrest, even getting heard at times.

They wander aimlessly for a while, gliding along any path they see.
For they don't have a destination in their mind and are lost without doubt

The newbies see their brothers' fate from afar.
They fear to set forth or even make a sound.
They wait for someone strong to take them ashore.
They wait and get old.
They get choked and don't get heard.

Words.

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