It Takes One to Know One

Sometimes my words come out like a dart,
Pointy and sharp, not smart from the start.
They poke and they jab, they wiggle and sting,
And suddenly kindness has taken a wing!

"I’m honest," I say, "just telling the truth!"
But truth with a bite? It’s not so uncouth.
I jabber and blabber, and what do I find?
The words I just used? They weren’t all that kind.

It’s easy to blame the world all around,
Their sharp little edges, their grumbling sound.
"It’s their fault," I mumble, "they started it first!"
But inside, I know, I might be the worst.

Oh, sorry’s a word that can feel so strange,
It’s heavy, it’s awkward, it means I must change.
But sorry’s the glue that sticks us together,
And maybe it makes things a little bit better.

So next time my tongue wants to slice like a sword,
I’ll think twice before saying a cutting word.
For it takes one to know one, it’s painfully true—
And being a softy? It’s better for you!