The words are dead.

The words are dead.
They fall flat from my mouth.
Inelegant.
Ugly.
Broken.
They are stale from disuse.
Brittle and dry.
maybe even harsh and uncaring.
spit out without thought.
without relevant thought at least.

The words are dead.
They thud on the ground.
Shriveled.
Emaciated.
Consumed.
They are void of emotion.
Tired and old.
maybe even passed on to the afterlife.
never spoken, never used.
never to be heard from again.

The words are dead.
They screech like hollow demons.
Twisted.
Thorny.
Leathery.
They wrench good from it's throne.
Evil and uncaring.
maybe even intent on conquering.
using silence to oppress.
creating their own demise.