Words

They are just words
they die in the wind
an empty word
a dream deferred*
so why do I need to hear them
why do they mean so much
they’ve become my crutch
something to live for
a reason to go on
to hear those words
instead of dying in the wind
from your lips…
a beautiful song

Words

Christina Agoris

Cooper City, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

referenced in the poem:
*A Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

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