My teeth are an enamel cage, bared in a pearl-polished snarl,
guarding the hateful words on my tongue—
my razor-tongue, craving blood drawn
from sharp wit and cutting retorts.

My voice is a savage, willful thing,
and unchecked wreaks chaotic, senseless havoc.
It would desecrate all that is holy with foul curses
and disparage friend and foe alike with vile slurs and slander.
Bitter irony and sarcasm are its weapons of choice
tearing into the flesh where it hurts,
where weaknesses have been laid bare,
an uncouth performance of a twisted humor
at the expense of everyone else involved.

And so I lock my lips and throw away the key
to prevent my keen eyes from becoming an accomplice to ******.
My voice would steal the secrets they see
and warp them into a mocking mimicry
to parrot to those who would only do more harm.

The syllables I speak are lethal.
I would rather be mute than wound with my words.

My teeth are an enamel cage, bared in a pearl-polished snarl,
guarding the hateful words on my tongue.

h.f.m.