By Andrew R. Duckworth
Leaning in with open ears,
They seek and they find,
What they were not meant to hear,
Standing near the “closed” sign.
And they beat their chests
Like wartime drums,
Twitching their thumbs,
Straightening out their vests.
Those words hold blood
Of innocent souls
And it will flow
From the worst of slapping lips.
Watch out for the words that spill
The blood until they kill.
Poetry of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 