If words were swords,

would we watch what we say?

Or chuck them at others who stand in our way?

 

What if they cut as deep as a blade?

How long would we make it?

How red would the carpet be?

Would we loose our temper and make others pay?

 

If the sheaths were dressed up pretty,

with ribbons and blond hair,

would it cover up the damage?

Could it even repair?

 

The lives that were wasted

because of a word

It was a joke but no one else heard:

the crying and screaming,

the victims all dead,

they just couldn't get the words our of their heads

 

If we were so afraid of death,

would we choose not to speak?

Or cover our ears until the blood leaks?

 

Because your words are knives to me

They slash at my chest so I can't breath

I was stabbed by a million of invisible swords

But, really, what killed me was your words