A whisper clothed in poisoned breath

can summon life, can summon death.

A truth that’s told with bad intent

beats all the lies you can invent.

For lies may fade like passing mist,

their sting forgotten and seldom missed;

truth, when wielded as a blade

cuts deeper wounds that never fade.

A fact that should’ve set one free,

becomes a chain, a mockery.

So beware the word, in malice, cast—

it’s mark outlives the shadowed past.

No lie can bear such dire a weight

as truth that seals another’s fate.