The very words have slit the back of my throat,
a crude experience tasting on the blood of a wounded tongue.
The very taste of evil slipping off of it.

The lines are chaos trails leading to a destruction,
Lurking, slowly preying like the untamed beast of unfiltered words.

Soon it attacks tearing at flesh to reach the heart.

Falling into submission, it holds back by the voice holding it down.

Don't you dare speak another negative word I tell myself,
pulling back the very thing and letting healing take place on the wounded tongue