The Word Is Fragile.
Through bits and bits and tons of bits
It flowed from stream to hit some hits
It's like the v'nom that spill the drip
And move the world with what it slip.
The world is just a gentle clay
But made strong with the bits words ray
And yet this word that made the world–
needs just a soft breathe to unfurled.
The word is a broken brown gold
that radiates wide in thin thread sold;
It's not unwell it serves no well
It's well a house where no one dwell.
"words from the innocent mind"