Words kill, words give life; they're either poison or fruit—you choose.

Dearest Kinsey, 

I am deeply convicted. My tongue is out of control. So much of what I say is pure poison. And I wonder why I feel my life and relationships becoming fragile, or distant. I cannot teach you to be this way. My heart aches because although I know I can be better, that God can and will help me. I am downtrodden still the same with the fact that this will rub off on you. Even if I curb so much of it, I will still fail. Fail you. I will fail you.
Oh Lord, please shield my precious little girl from my shortcomings.