The poison is not bitter,

or sweet or like any 

taste of death;

for it is comes not

as poison at all but as 

the ordinariness of life.


It comes as words 

so often said, so often

heard and felt and 

stored up inside.


The poison is slow,

killing away, killing away,

unseen, unmarked,

but as deadly as cyanide.


Give a little bit

every day, 

every day,

every day,

give a little bit

every day and 

you will die inside.


Words are not tender,

words are not sweet,

words are the poison

you swallow each day.


Words are forever,

words are a lie,

words are the enemy

that lives by your side.