Were I to ascribe arms to emotions,
Ascribe'd forged arms to emotions, sharp and edged

Apathy's a knife, dull yet pointed
It's flung unerring, though the thrower's unknowing
Aimed at a mark, to the home inside the heart,
Where cherished mem'ries give strength to flight
Wounding deep, and deeper still, to the place
Where words can kill

No lighter words spoken with a heavier hand
Than the knife hurled in apathy, that sad trajectory
Pierced to the heart, past bone to the soul
The listener left wounded, but worse off than dead
Benevolence turned to untoward caring
No such worth after cast out worth, past words
Are withered, rotten - And how much more trust
To hear the same spoken, from the same one
Who brings the weapon to light
Friends to slay friends, but worse still
Fear more than concern, uncertainty more than encouragement,
Doubt more than words
Yet I do the same, "Learn from my mistakes," and these
fall on deaf ears as well