If this were words on paper
They would be red
A seething tone of disappointment
People carry the hatred within for so long
They burn up
And it spews forth
When the trigger is pulled
by something they cannot–no–
It is a vice, a disease
A heavy burden for them to carry
when the answer is simple:
Be kind. Be respectful. But no.
It is always mangled by the mass opinions
Of those who have no business
Showering the rest of us with their spiteful tongue’s spit of evil.
They mistake passive aggressive behavior
Long and lengthy paragraphs
And another’s silence as weakness.