It’s the word of hurt.
The gasp of pain.
It’s lower than dirt.
More of it in which the world will gain.
It’s the prick of a finger to see blood.
It’s the damage after a massive flood.
It’s the slit on thy wrist you see.
It’s the true inner demon of thee.
It’s the fire of a burning building.
It’s the one word that entwines everything.
It’s the loud scream in the darkness of the night.
It’s the bloody ending of a fight.
One day the world will be in silence.
The reason for that will be violence. ©
Please do not copy my poems without permission as they are original.