I'Ll Be Quiet
L
Leslie Alexis
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It’s poison,
Is it not…
To the heart?
The tongue and lip
The dribbled spit
Filled with bacteria
That covers tongue like a lawn;
When it swings
Like a stringed guillotine
Without conscience
Without fear
Does it not treat reason
With hurricane winds
As if it were a paper wall?
Doesn't the desire to justify self
Kill the same self hereafter?
Too often does the tongue
Make right
That which is wrong,
And right forever…
Copyright © 2011 Leslie Alexis
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