My Words

As I walk through the isle,
Full of endless stories.
Some true,
Some false,
Some fun,
And some boring.
They having deeper meanings,
Than the words of my own.
Just put down in a sentence,
With no sense alone.
As I lose myself,
With the words on the page,
I find myself sad,
And completely enraged.
My own attempts,
At writing something with meaning,
Are lost in my mind,
In the world of the dreaming.
They mean nothing,
Because I just put them down,
With no other thought,
Then to rhyme and astound.
I suppose then,
My words,
Are just senseless and dim.
Because I think nothing deep.
I am my own critic,
Of the words that have been.