Words

Words are our mortal enemy
they destruct the inner most part 
of the human soul
Cut like sharp scissors and paper
just one swift snip and it's a wound
 wounds heal,
but memories remain like scar tissue
that you simply cannot see.
We are spendthrifts with words
we squander and hide them
but sometimes they escape
and burn down all the firehouses
the ones far upon the sloping hills
be careful how you play
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace