Rebellious words.

My words are unwilling dancers on my screen.
Through my tears they look ugly, miscreated.

They implore, beg, cry and shout.

And when I come to rescue them,

when I delete 

those asking for compassion

they reappear in another sentence to 

defy and mock me.

Only when I read them out loud

they concur cautiously.

Through their wildcat strikes

they tell me my language is inappropriate,

my words to poetical instead of

unconditional hardcore. 

They want to reflect the outside society and 

refuse me to describe beauty and love.

And once written for the eternity

they still hide for those to whom they are dedicated.