it doesn't mean anything
the moment you try to put
the first word down
it loses its meaning to
a box you belong
the word is wordless even when
you sing, look at those
wordless travelers crossing over
same corner same time each day
the web they are weaving with steps
called world, a divided word if you've noticed
meaningless
game of words you work on and on
poems jump out of it and gone
coincidence sounds a wise one throws
queries in a bin which contains stuff called
food and fruits a while ago when
they were still trying to grow
as they were under the sun
poets look like relatives of poems
but thieves of the wordless pieces
those critics stuffed their mouths with
poetic swears are their truly
enemyful friends with whom they
split bills of love and hack fairly