my words plastered upon forest leaves.

does it matter at all
when you know something to be true.
when all those around you
those blessed with glistening minds
deny.
what is knowledge if not
unanimously confirmed.
you see I built words
and mine are almost humorous
they almost make people laugh
in the way they would stand
scrawny
and staggering
shaken back and forth.
but I possess
what most of you
do not
and I too
know this to be true
my words are thin
and fragil
and falling
with the weight of discontent
but I stand
and I spet them forth
like each word
was daggers and stones
and stiff projections
that are suppose
to snatch your heart
instead fall upon
your shadow.
my words know they are ugly
my words standing with you staring at them
in the hot breeze
 of summer nights
and trees
 that stand in anxiety
to watch the intensity
my words know they are ugly.
but they stand in the depths of forests
as wind blows through their nudity
glared at.
grin whilst at the heart of adversity.