the birthing of a new day
brings good news, no matter what
the sun is bright with renewed hope...
for some, though,
a new day means only  one thing,
which, to them, is so fulfilling---

as soon as there is light,
nothing could stop
the lashing of the tongue,
the mind, ever ready to strike.
a vanity mirror stands---
many reflections stare back
waits,
for the eyes that stare
the eyes that wander
through words
through spaces
searching for its prey
mouth brims with affronts
inflicts pain
mind gets busy
fire raging
too much envy...hatred... and grudge held within,
hands touch...slide on the keys
words glide away....then start
spinning double-edged knives
words that stab and slash
when read, and absorbed
flying in the air
while the innocent ones inhale,
victims, burned
by the flames spewed by the tongue
poisoned
by the venom of the spitfire.

purple skies of dawn don't matter
dark blue firmament could just stay that way
for, there is only black and red
while the spitfire is awake...


Sally


Copyright June 28, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan