Boomerang

I am a curse upon my mouth
The wings of wicked truths
manifest within the gums of those who whisper
worshiped words owed to the skeletons of sharp fanged actions
I carry a brush to clean out my words
Flossing between syllables to separate the livable from the absurd

Weight is measured in the gravity of reaction
Force is used even when silence is our undeniable retraction
Our attraction to dissent knows only of our pride so venerable
Will the judge presiding over our endless cases
forever stay honorable?

Expectation of hope is audacity unchained
Anticipation of pain never works in our favor or gain
The brain is a terrible master when the world is entrenched in grips of disaster
The faster I speak the more I stand a chance
to forget all that humbles the meek in the midst of their laughter