First actual poem made on here, meaning this isn't transferred :3

It's easier to block the sound,
Running through a maze of clouds,
Thought bubbles popping all around,
Everything seems to be falling down.

Tell me what you think is right,
It wouldn't even stop a fight,
Having fate is hard tonight,
Don't hold my hand, I'm not your light.

They say that words are like knife,
Can cut deep with a single strike,
But sometimes gentle, without a doubt,
Ah such words, can make us dart.

Just like the storm, but the rain like hail,
Stinging your skin, and cold like the bars of jail.
It makes you feel sick, kind of like hypothermia, bad comperson?
Well, it also kills, if you listen close enough, just a suggestion.