Hold your wretched tongue,
Tis not I that should be hung.
For tis you who brought thee upon thy self,
Your mouth sins in exasperation and filth.
Doth thou feed off others sorrow?
Thou holdeth the eyes of the black sparrow.
Tis he who carries the devils wrath,
Thee sends fools like you on the wrong path.
Doth thou feel satisfaction speaking words of hurt?
Targeting the patsy leaving thy faces in the dirt?
Thou shouldn’t feel fine,
Sipping the devils black wine.
Fragile spirits walk the earth,
Courageous men upon thee dearth.
Thou art foolish speaking that way,
Using harsh words thou disobey.’
For he is a man just like thee,
Yet thou holdeth him back and laugh with glee.
Doth thou maketh feel good inside,
Allowing your fist and his face to collide?
Throwing words of pain and misery,
Leaving thy boy in the infirmary.
Your words cause hurt to those around,
Tis your tongue that is highly profound.
For I’ve seen young mortals like you,
Who look big and strong but deep within are blue.
They wrath to anger cause that’s all they know,
The pain within will grow and grow.
Findeth the spirit of good inside,
Thee will no longer have to hide.
Teach the young to fight,
Against the blackest of the night.
Don’t let his wrath reel you in,
Hurting others does not maketh win.