Respect

Respect.

That’s the soil I plant my boots in.

But if you find me spitting venom,

ask yourself what poisoned the well.

I don’t start with fire...

but I sure as hell know how to burn when you drag me there.

I was raised to tip my hat,

shake your hand firm, look you in the eye.

Respect isn't weakness... it’s the code,

the law I live and die by.

But when that’s twisted, mocked, or spit on,

something breaks,

and that fire inside starts rattling chains.

I start with respect, every time, every place,

but if you’re standing in the ashes,

you better trace your own mistakes.

Don’t call me cruel, don’t call me wrong,

when the storm you’re drowning in

was a quiet man pushed too long.

I’ve bitten my tongue till it bled,

just to keep the peace in the room.

But silence only feeds the scavengers,

they only circle so long.

You wanted the beast,

now you got him howling...

don’t act surprised at the carnage you made.

I start with respect, every time, every place,

but if you’re standing in the ashes,

you better trace your own mistakes.

Don’t call me cruel, don’t call me wrong,

when the storm you’re drowning in

was a quiet man pushed too long.

Respect is a two way street,

not some crooked road where you drive alone.

You set the trap, pulled the lever,

then cry when the teeth bite bone.

I don’t swing first but I swing hard,

and when I do,

you’ll know exactly why.

I start with respect, every time, every place,

but if you’re standing in the ashes,

you better trace your own mistakes.

Don’t call me cruel, don’t call me wrong,

when the storm you’re drowning in

was a quiet man pushed too long.

Steel meets dirt, and dirt don’t lie.

You’ll hear it in the clatter of broken trust.

I gave you rope to build a bridge,

but you tied a noose instead.

Now you’re choking on your own design,

while I walk away, head held high.

I start with respect, every time, every place,

but if you’re standing in the ashes,

you better trace your own mistakes.

Don’t call me cruel, don’t call me wrong,

when the storm you’re drowning in

was a quiet man pushed too long.

Respect is currency.

I pay first.

But if you counterfeit it,

don’t scream when the vault slams shut.

I don’t start wars...

I finish them.

From a place of respect...

that’s where I begin.

If we ended in blood and smoke,

you need to ask yourself...

what the hell you did

to drag me here.

© 2026 A Broken Poet

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