A Word.

A word changed everything. A word changed nothing.
These words threaded along the pretense of meaning are often followed by the misconceptions of belief and we breathe that word of hate enclosed in the trappings of love and dutiful obligation. We speak simple crescendos and saturate alphabets in beats of emotion banging on our cheeks to spill out our slow deaths upon a deaf ear or an open hand. Our flesh recollects those cruel words we digest and they float on the sheaths of our bones directed by the flow of the soul. The plural. The singular. The quoted misgivings that our tongues betray us with somehow slipped out and manifested in the grout. If benevolent be the adjective, let peace be my noun. We are words laced in the flora of our histories, our actions merely ghosts of a thought.