just words in the end

i go through the file
and start deleting all the emails

I've sent over the past
few years.

wrenching stuff. brutal words,
pathetic
and crazy. making a case
for myself.

a case for love and truth,

telling the same story over and
over again.

letters sent, printed and folded
into envelopes.

letters left on pillows.
on desks.
letters, to anyone connected
to the pain i was in.

i wrote myself into a cell.
a box of my own take on reality.

thinking heartfelt words could
change someone,
or fix things somehow.

i can't even read them now,
it's like sipping on her poison
once more, so
i just click and off they go,

never to be seen or read again.

words are powerful, mighty swords
but
people are who they are,
and all the words in the world
will not fix them.

all that you wrote, meant nothing
in the end.