Like the water to grease our joints
They need and breath the scuttlebutt
No amount of armour-clad hardihood
Can withstand the onslaught
Of these wagging viperous tongues
For their venom is carried on the air
Their noxious passing comments
Kick-off for the dramatic production
That holds a morbid magnetism
Avid spectators to the fallout
At their perceived innocuous hands
Their stories corrosive to the tendons
That keep their victims together
Leaving burial mounds of broken souls
Lying in heaps of crushing despair
In the wake of their eager dispersal
Of acidic opinion and spun tales
Like the spider’s web to catch the flies
Can they not shut it, if it is unkind?
Debbie Gravett © 2020.10.20
FOWC: Scuttlebutt
RDP: Hardihood
Image by Sammy-Williams from Pixabay
