For One I Loathe Most...

Words are ruined; my language defiled -
not by sentiment strong, nor sentiment mild -
but my brain feels tainted, my mouth ill-strung...
For one I loathe most, and I, speak the same tongue.



If we put ink to paper, we scrawl letters alike;
We both know to make pen-strokes the hardest strike
And if in a conflict we should speak aloud,
We use the same intonation and drop the same vowels!



Where can I turn, now that language betrays,
How to express what I mean to convey?
The distrust, the anger, the hatred I've wrung
Knowing one I loathe most and I speak the same tongue.