A Little Tyrant

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A sharp, unruly, twisted thing,

That hides within its fleshly frame,

It bends, it slips, it coils, it clings,

And plays with truth as though a game.


It crawls and curls behind the teeth,

Then peeks beyond the roof of the mouth;

It knows no bounds, no law beneath,

No north, no south, no east, no south.


A restless creature, quick and sly,

It speaks before the mind can think;

It lifts a mortal to the sky,

Then pushes him beyond the brink.


With flattering words it builds a throne,

And raises one above the clouds;

It carries pride to heights unknown,

Then casts the same soul to the crowds.


It praises, crowns, deceives, and charms,

It makes a stranger seem a friend;

Then turns its words to subtle harms,

And watches broken ties descend.


A blade more keen than tempered steel,

It cuts through peace without a sound;

It leaves a wound no time can heal,

A scar no passage can confound.


No sword is needed, none is drawn;

One sentence can become a spear.

A peaceful heart before the dawn

Can wake to hatred, grief, and fear.


It bends to lies, it tricks the eye,

A restless traitor in the dark;

It whispers softly, passes by,

Then leaves behind a fatal spark.


It feeds on gossip, pride, and spite,

On anger carried ear to ear;

A secret whispered late at night

May travel farther than a tear.


It can deceive the trusting heart,

It can betray the closest friend;

It can make faithful lovers part,

And bring a friendship to its end.


Beneath ill stars, it sparks the flame,

Then watches homes and friendships fall;

And when the ashes bear a name,

It claims it never spoke at all.


Some call a tongue a “blackened” tongue,

When words seem cursed before they're said;

Ancient fears from elders sung

Still haunt the paths where speech has spread.


And when ill fortune fills the air,

A careless tongue can stain a name;

A single word, pronounced unfair,

May leave behind a lasting shame.


How many lives have drowned in tears

At one command this tongue has made?

How many hearts, through passing years,

Still bleed beneath the wounds it laid?


How many homes have fallen apart

Because one mouth refused to cease?

How many lives, once full of hope,

Have lost their shelter, love, and peace?


The tongue is hidden in the flesh,

Yet bares the secrets of the soul;

The smallest limb can weave a mesh

That takes a lifetime to unroll.


It has no feet, yet travels far;

No hands, yet steals a person's name;

No sword, yet leaves a deeper scar;

No fire, yet sets the world aflame.


It bends and slips, it feigns and cheats,

It boasts, deceives, condemns, denies-

The only moving limb that lies,

Yet dresses falsehood up as wise.


Oh tongue, so small, yet crowned with power,

What kingdoms have your whispers cost?

How many souls, in one brief hour,

Have learned too late what words have lost?


You speak, and consequences start;

You command, and others obey.

Yet who will gather every heart

That your brief words have torn away?


Oh tongue of mine, before you fly,

Before you leap beyond my teeth,

Let truth and mercy first reply;

Let wisdom stand your words beneath.


For once a word has left the tongue,

No hand can call the arrow back.

Though sorry lips may say they’re wrong,

The wound may still remain its track.


You may explain, you may regret,

You may deny what you have said;

But words released are living yet-

They wander where your voice has led.


So learn to speak, and learn to cease;

Let silence sometimes guard the heart.

For not every truth must wound the peace,

Nor every thought deserves a start.


Remember, tongue, you have two guards-

The lips before, the teeth behind.

Perhaps they stand as silent wards

To keep your restless speech confined.


A sword may wound a single life;

A tongue can wound a generation.

A careless word can kindle strife

And leave its ashes in a nation.


So, tongue of mine, be slow to rise,

Let kindness temper every sound;

For words can heal, and words can maim,

And words can turn the world around.


And when at last the lips grow still,

Let wisdom guard what speech would say;

For silence, mastered by the will,

May save a life another day.


Oh tongue-so little, yet so strong,

So quick to bless, so quick to blame;

Remember always, right or wrong:


A word once spoken cannot be unsaid-

and a wound once given

may outlive the tongue that made it.


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