Breath of Life

Words are at times    
painful  
to process.    
 
A hurtful phrase    
can wound  
deeper    
than a knife and may  
never    
properly heal.    
 
It's the mental anguish    
that sticks    
with us and stones may as well    
be boulders,    
because pebbles just don't do    
as much damage.    
   
I feel as if a sharp tongue    
is a deadlier weapon  
than a loaded gun;    
it may not end    
your life in an instant,    
rather kill you    
slowly from the inside,    
as you dwell on the agony    
of what was said.      
   
Words will haunt you    
no matter where    
you hide from them.    
 
They will eat you up    
like a monster
on the darkest of days,
when night has consumed    
all that was light,    
and death seems like a better alternative to living through another    
breath of life.