The Jealous Tongue... Poem by WIN VENTURA

It slithers in the sweetest tone,
Disguised in praise it doesn't own.
It says "well done, " but means "too much, "
Its flattery, a poisoned touch.

It speaks of others just to slice,
Then smiles — cold, polite, and nice.
Its words are mirrors bent to lie,
A tongue that lifts just to deny.

It does not shout. It doesn't swear.
It wounds with silk and perfumed air.
And when you leave, it speaks again
To curse your name in friendly rain.

Protect your name. Don't feed its fire.
Walk with truth and climb higher.
The jealous tongue will talk and twist —
But your silence
is your fist.

✍🏽By: - WIN VENTURA