I could not produce a perfect sentence,
so instead I killed my family.
Intricate webs woven,
and little seeds planted.
Words that will not touch a page
let loose a vindictive voice.
That's why your inner voice
finds words like onomatopoeia funny;
it's sharp.

As you project your frustration
into a headache, it passes along.
You try to remember if your family
history has been linked to cancer.

Yet some people will say:
Words Don't Hurt.
But they know.
Because they once
had families, too.