Well, So How Many? Poem by Bella Magik

If words were bullets and mouths were a gun, how many people have you shot for fun?
How many times have you aimed from a fence? How many times have you claimed self-defence?
How many souls have you lined up to take, random shots at so they'll bleed and they'll break?
I wonder when you're shooting somebody else, if it's so you don't feel like shooting yourself?

If words were knives and mouths were a hand, how many backs have you stabbed cause you can?
How many times has their flesh felt your steel? How many times have your lies cut the “real”?
How many souls have been left with wounds deep, by the razored illusions of secrets you keep?
I wonder if every time you've raised the knife, if it's to slice your truth in sacrifice.

If words were fists and mouths were the swing, how many people have stood in your ring?
How many times have you punched til they fell? How many times have you ignored the bell?
How many people have danced on their toes, only to leave you with a broken nose?
I wonder if you swing at somebody else, just so you'll stop taking swings at yourself.

If words were stars and mouths were the sky, how many people would shine passing by?
How many times would your smile follow through? How many would see all the beauty in you?
How many would chose to linger in light, sharing the gifts of the diamonds at night?
I wonder why so many people are blind, and use words as weapons and not to be kind.