What if our words recoil?

What if,
our words…
The objects shaped by the alphabets we craft.

And then hurl on others,
return to us?

What if,
they develop wings.
And out of the blue,
After tracing a distance,
revisit us.

And strike us!?


What if,
immediately after leaving us,
descend downhill;
Instead of advancing…

Bounce back at us like a ball?

What if these, 
like snakes…
keen for spewing venom,
Slither back to us…?

And crunch into us?

Will we be unquestionably okay?

Are we sure we won’t fall?
Beneath  the boomerang of our own words?

Are we sure?
The ball of our words…
Shall be of sponge and;
Not vulcanized?

And can we be assured?
The snake we create,
shall be not spiteful;
And just return to kiss us?
To make us feel incredible!

About our creation?

IF not,
Why do it?

Why not live through our words before they escape us?
And cause chaos.

Yes, words are weapons.

But are we so fiendish?

Have we been given,
this wonderful gift of expression,
to harm anyone and everyone?

To deflate them?

Aren’t we wounded by such things too?

Why not our bark be so calm,
that it does no harm;
When it returns to us?

Why not the snake and,
Why not the ball;
Be desirable…

Just as they want them to be,
When thrown at us?

Why not and Why not?

Our greatest,
And most deceitful mace;

The tongue.

Be used with duty? 

The End

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