LINES OF THOUGHT © 2015

Malice always seeks a host,

Someone where it can quietly reside,

It arrives discreetly, without a certain boast,

Waiting for the chance to take root inside.

It whispers words of doubt and spite,

Feeding on weakness and fear,

And where it finds cracks of pain in sight,

There it grows, concealing its secret near.

But the soul that remains vigilant,

That chooses love instead of revenge,

Is strong enough, constant,

To not yield to malice that can impinge.

Malice only settles where there is space,

But a pure heart never gives it embrace.

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