Words

I ask myself, what am I doing with my life?
No, don’t worry, I’m not going to end it
foolish to think one can escape by the knife
dotted lines of ink where the pen hits
they join together to make words so strong
sticks and stones break bones, but words
Words are deadly. Kill, maim and harm
psychologically lie there dying on the curb
clutch my heart, those words, those words
hit so deep by painful uttering, mutterings
under my breath cursing and hurting
regretting using my tongue so freely now
it will land me in hell if I don’t stop, how
could I possibly speak so ill to my mother
she struggled so hard to give me bread, butter
paradise is at her feet yet the sin I repeat
efforts wasted, hairline rope and then…heat.