A word with weight, a heavy stone,
That rolls and crushes, leaves you alone.
A sharp edge, a cutting blade,
A wound that lingers, never fades.
It speaks of malice, bitter spite,
Of cruelty's grip, a dark, cold night.
A harsh intent, a cruel design,
To break and bruise, to leave you in decline.
But mean can also be a tool,
To shape and mold, to make you cool.
A strong resolve, a stubborn will,
To stand your ground, to conquer still.
So choose your meaning, careful now,
For mean can rise, or bring you low.
A word with power, both good and bad,
A double-edged sword, to make you glad,
Or leave you shattered, broken, sad.