30 July 2012
We like to think our words dissipate As fast as our breath on a chilly morn Hanging long enough to be noticed, And then soon departed, from us shorn
As if we were free from obligations With options open forever more Rethink, retract, rephrase and and retreat Nothing attached to us at our core
But some words can be so corrosive They burn all the way down to our bones Some words will haunt us for a lifetime As if etched with acid, etched in stone.
Etch • Opuss № I