Some years or more in another life
With too much time full of agony and strife
He could fill a page with venomous rhymes
Not worry about smiles or alpabetical crimes.
The words mounted on page and in mind
The vitriol spilled and spread like a vine.
Away from the blog the words stayed refusing
To walk away from someone so eager in using
The darkness in type that when read could infect
The heart of a soul so far from perfect.
Words can hurt and burrow deep.
They can pierce like an arrow making grown men weep.
So think before you type you bloggers so cult
If you want them to listen inspire not insult
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