216. ♡ Flattery ♡

I think we can all agree,
That to strike another,
What do we call so?
Violence.

Perhaps I'm teetering a thin string.
You're allowed to object if you want,
I'm not afraid to fall out of line.
I've hit the ground enough to know,
A broken body tends to heal.

So do broken hearts.
Still, allow me to interject,
Although the heart may heal,
Attacks against the heart?
Those too should be called
Violence.

If you poison that glass,
No matter how sweet the drink,
Only to leave as they hit the floor,
What do we call so?
Violence.

Words can soothe the spirit,
What if they were part of their play?
Magicians would be proud.
Dreaming up a future,
Promising to commit,
A vanishing act unsaid.
What do we call so?
Disinterest.

Not all scars are visible.
When hurt is unseen,
What do psychologists say?
Trauma.
Once it's a habit?
Disorder.

I jest.
Habit?
That would suggest,
Others didn't force it...

No harm, no foul.
Death from internal bleeding.
So why not call it so,
Violence?

How do you sleep at night,
Knowing you made someone
Your play thing.

Is the reason why,
You toss toys aside,
People wouldn't know,
You're a collector?

Nurturing soil, clean water, sunshine.
Under tender love and care,
Will the flower bloom.
Cleansing the air surrounding it.
Offering eye-candy while we're at it.
Poison any one away,
And it will wither away.
What happens when all the plants die?
Wouldn't mother nature, the planet too, die?

What would we call so?
Neglect?
Hmm...
No one will take it seriously...
I say...
Violence!