On tenterhooks, one knows the temptation of the hasty word of criticism, of insult, of condemnation born from bewilderment.
And I hold my peace, for I have no harsh words. The replies I imagine are born of pain.
A cycle I will not foster, though within it festers. I drip the poison here.
I Already said my piece. The fact that I am at the meeting point on time says the rest.
No comments:
Post a Comment