We are the words that we eat what we say when we think we are right; yet others serve us a dish of bitter truth. How we respond when chewing it down shows, without telling, the kind person we be or not be. Were we to remember our manners and listen before being heard, we'd learn more and hurt less; yet our hands bolt up eager to answer; though no question hangs in the air—pause— —you fool—think this one through in patience and silence hear who you are. Yet maybe, the roar of blood in my ears scares me to report before I know my true self. I think I better chew on this a bit, Lest I choke on yet another bitter pill.