My poisoned arrows shoot your heart.
They meet their match and make their mark.
Then you shoot back with deadly aim,
And what you feel, I feel the same.
The pain so strong, the cut so deep.
It makes me shudder, gasp and weep.
But worse for me, I tell the truth,
Is that I do the same to you.
For poisoned arrows – words and deeds,
Are shot in haste, not taking heed.
We set our sights on biting barbs,
And in the end, we bear the scars.
So choose your arrows, aim them well,
And pick your target, heav’n or hell;
For you receive just as you give,
And you will leave here as you lived.