Everything Broken

Words are cheap.

Speak a few, and there goes a few grains of rice in power.
The power is really nothing to speak of at all.

Except when they are.

Except when they are words that carry so much through so little.
Words that come out so fast, the damage is done before you can take them back.

"I hate you", "I don't care", "We're through".

All words that defy laws of energy.
All words that come out too fast.

Especially from a faster mouth.

A mouth can move faster than rationality,
and fingers move faster than the mouth.
As soon as my flaming raging is out, I find myself thinking:

No, wait, what are you doing?
What has been done?

I stare at the ashes, sometimes.
Of something that could have been more.
Of something that could have not happened at all.

Those dark little voices inside me push me on,
but even without them, my emotions care little for what they will feel later on.

I've tried to make things right,
and have only failed.

But nonetheless...

I hope the me in another world will never write the words that you never wanted to read.
I hope that you never have suffered there.

I never meant to make you suffer here...
But to mean and to do? They are different stories.

Words are cheap.

So is poison.