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Sting
The word stings like a slap in the face
It cannot be taken back or erased
Forever touched in the steel trap of the mind
Never to mend with time
A bag to be toted for the rest of life
Like a scar that has been left by a knife
Healing is swift for the cut
But the word is still on the cuff
There as long as there is a soul
For the word to take control

Elisabeth Stover 2001