Words are just empty reflections of human experiences. Do we transcend experience? I would like to think so. It would certainly explain this constant, never-ceasing struggle to find the right words. ClichŽ's don't cover what is seen through the shadowed filters of eyelashes. There's no direct way to tell anyone exactly how I feel. There is the flaw; the frailty of words exposed. I can only shape shadows around the form, hoping desperately to reveal its silhouette, or the vaguest inclination of what it is.