Choose Your Words

Is it the content that leads to discontent, or the arrangement of the word I find so absurd. These poems, hearts full of hate, the very soul they stab and penetrate. Sentences thrown with lack of light, meanings lost in wrong or right. Too much angst, too much pain, scour the page, the eye disdain. Sentences dark, bare of fruit, hatreds path a lonely route. As some with venom speak, can we pause and turn the cheek. Be at peace in this world so small, rid the page of hatreds scrawl.