It's Not Okay

Whispers spread behind my back, Like poison in a winding track. To speak of me when I’m not near Is coward’s way, and crystal clear. I’m far from perfect, that you know— But dragging me down steals your glow. Words like knives, they cut and tear, Leaving wounds that aren’t fair. Respect begins where silence ends, Not with betrayal dressed as friends. If you have nothing kind to say, Then keep your poison — it’s not okay.