Code

Flesh meets flesh

The cruelest insult

Physical pain subordinate

To the lingering wound on the soul.

Words are spoken

Only sound, ghosts in the nether

Yet they burn with fire, scald with temper

Break the brittle ego

Dim the fires of the heart

And then, those eyes!

A glance tells all

The final dagger, the mortal wound

The words that say, slowly, clearly

I hate you.  You should die where you stand.

This is the language, the world of meaning

I understand all too well.