Pure Intentions

We speak of kindness, preach of grace,

Yet cut with words we fail to trace.

A glance too sharp, a sigh too loud,

A silent judgment wrapped in shroud.

We carve with whispers, frowns, and doubt,

Not knowing what our lips let out.

Intentions pure, or so we claim,

Yet fault and flaw we quick to name.

The mind moves fast, the heart stands still,

A critic’s voice bends to its will.

And when reflection casts its light,

We see the wounds we thought were slight.

So pause a breath, reshape the tone,

For what we give may be our own.

A world less harsh, a kinder view—

It starts with me. It starts with you.