What is a word?

Is it a twist of tongue?

Or the loss of ones love?

Is it the pain that I see in the color blind sea?

Or just a loss of mortality?

Does it remain when all the others pictures have faded away?

Or is it meant to be played, and torn into the dismal day?

What makes me use a word?

Maybe its because, it makes me so free.

Free as one of those old time jail birds.

What is a word?