“Words painted with permanent ink.
Ink that only defines itself for never being lost.
But when secret notes fade, and tears make them smear.
You begin to chant “everlasting; so?”
I am a simple word in a very large chapter.
My definition is restricted from everything I wish for it to be.       
Trapped among the blue and between pink.
Beyond my context, I’m being drowned in vowels.
In a world of paper, it’s all white noise.
The A’s the E’s. The I.O.U.’s. You’ll get what you deserve.
Articulate with eloquence.
I imperishably lay there trying to construe a person from a simple definition.
I was born a word. As empty as a brand new page.”

-J.P. Trochez (vers libre).