Sister

I can see her mouth moving again,

Flapping like a letterbox in the wind.

Whatever's coming out of there

Will not be good.

The angry needles of pain

She stabs out at the world

Prick her conscience not one jot. 

I almost pity her, but not quite.

She's worse than just an idle gossip,

She's a deliberate gossip,

Never troubled by the inconvenience 

Of truth in the telling.

So young a heart,

So shrivelled with 

Imagined disappointments,

Soap opera bred 

And twice as bitter.

Wake up sister of mine,

Words shape minds, 

Minds shape the world,

Do yourself a favour 

And choose your words 

With a better heart.