Words do speak
to this heart.
It’s those words,
their recognition strikes
bathed in scarlet eloquence.

Words which wield such mighty hands.
With great ease sometimes pushing, sometimes
squeezing and releasing
my heart.

Some come to steal
in their bloody robes of red,
walking along with
the devil.

Some a wreckage of poison
set to steal our sails.
Leaving us alive, yet
longing for death.


What if the words
to which we cling,
were l
ike and as, the

Yes, unstoppable,
not meant to be held
its immeasurable power,

Stifling the choke
of the impossible.
Slaughtering the devil, his poisons distilled.

Come now, reclaim your sails.
There is no impossible
in the Unstoppable.


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