People And Their Opinions
The tongues of men are quick to rise,
With words like arrows loosed at night;
Yet none will pause to scan the skies,
To seek the stars that lend them light.
They weave their judgments, thread by thread,
A tapestry of fleeting thought,
But truths unspoken lie half-dead,
While lies take wings and fly unsought.
How cruel the careless hand can be,
To carve its mark where none can heal;
Each whispered tale, a poisoned sea,
Each glance, a blade that cuts with zeal.
Oh, would they seek the tempered flame,
Where facts stand tall, unbent, refined,
Instead of playing this cruel game
Of shadows cast by shallow minds.
The pain they sow, they may not reap,
But hearts are scarred, and wounds run deep.
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