Flytrap

A whirlwind of sarcasm,
Or a passage of sincerity.
Our gateway of expression,
The greatest creator of clarity.

A tool abused by many,
Used for hate more than love:
Insults, lies, gossip, rumours.
Things many can't rise above.

Mine has a mind of her own.
A message, often lost in translation.
Outspoken but once it is known,
I must face the confrontation.

Constantly shooting its bullets,
Words sharp, like the edge of a blade.
Fire with each sentence - wounds
That can't be healed with a band aid.

My gateway of expression,
Is like a CD stuck on repeat.
A giggle and a shriek.
Trying to hit notes that she can’t reach.

My passage of sincerity,
Shall be used as a tool.
My mouth is not a weapon of destruction.
But instead shall be used in construction.