Living The Words

i pluck out all those gigantic words in a dictionary with the wish to write a high brow poem it turns out a fruit i do not even know how to call neither sweet, nor sour, nor a pearly shape nor anything that you can find in this world the final poem glaring at me like a stranger one bumps into in a foreign town all the words beg me for the reason to grace my poem, they say they are not even my friend for i know them not that they have never interacted with me and i have never caroused with them they dont mind, they say, standing in for the verses as new friends do for formality but frankly tell me we are not yet in such spirit or company as to perform a dynamic act i reread the poem to find indeed they are mere words friends that got thrown together without knowing what to expect from each other they bow out and the whole poem just got lost in the wilderness of my mind i seek those friends out anyway, to share a part of their life so that i can if needed be, belt out a proper song with them to impress the world, to throw the audience out of their seats