The Wordbook

I promised to reinvent new words
Today I cry
‘Coz
I couldn’t find words
To make my heart understand.

The dictionary there
In that shelf,
Borrowed from the street,
Is filled with words
I invented
To be a musician
I shouldn’t be.

The words all know
Are quite wise.
They just call “love”
A lie.
The words, all know
Made me stumble alone.
They just call “trust”
A not must.


*It's about the power of words, of constructs that are so difficult to believe in. It's the longing for a language who might only musicians have(?).