My neighbor lives with a constant brow,
Across the fence, their stories flow.
Their tongue cuts deep like a farmer's plough;
They twist the truth the street may know,
Their power speaks in shadows low,
They stir up quarrels from then till now,
And leave behind their echo—how?
An echo near that haunts me so.
Echo—below.
They never strike with fist or might,
But bind the mind in chains so tight,
They pull the strings to prove their might
And twist their words from left to right,
Using a deceptive smile to conceal their bite.
They rule the crowd by cunning sight
And blind the mind that missed the light.
Thereby turns the day into the night
Echo—despite.
My chest is burning with the flame,
My spirit boils untamed,
it shakes at what they claim,
Their careless taunts become the same;
Their mocking words I can't reframe.
I clench my teeth at how they defame
Their constant jeers have fed the shame,
I fight the urge to play their game,
Yet anger calls and shouts my name.
Echo—proclaim.
But life has taught a clearer way;
Wisdom whispers, "Walk away.
Not every storm deserves to stay;
Not every quarrel should make me sway.
Their poisoned words may rise today;
Your peace is worth far more than blame.
Let silence guide your chosen way."
So I choose peace and walk away.
Echo—away.
This is my response to the August week 2 challenge of the 
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