We are the words that
we eat what we say when
we think we are right;
yet others serve us
a dish of bitter truth.
How we respond when
chewing it down shows,
without telling, the kind
person we be or not be.

Were we to remember our
manners and listen before
being heard, We'd learn
more and hurt less;
Yet our hands bolt up eager
to answer; though no question
hangs in the air—Pause—
you fool—and think
this one through
in patience and silence
hear who you are.

Yet maybe, the roar of blood
in my ears scares me to
report before I know
my true self. I think
I better chew on this a bit,
Lest I choke on this bitter pill.

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