Spiteful harsh whisps of words,
Sharp amoung the silence,
Tiny things, hardly plausable,
Until they travel, word by word,
Reach their target,
Unleash the pain, the weakness,
The lonliness, the anger held within,
Upon the soul of which those whisps of words,
Once were wished to be bestowed.
For the eyes that lock that soul,
They gaze, malicious and merciless,
Not worrying of what those idle utterings,
can do to that same soul.
and those whispers do naught but destroy...