Swords and Letters

Struggles with anger and idealists

Another day passes; time
for me to sap the adrenaline from my system.
I took up words to attack
those who spew trash and are quick
to reject compromise.
Do these debaters know
how lucky they are not to face
me when I wield my swords of malice?
I yearn to pierce their fantasy hearts,
slice their dove bodies,
toss their scraps into the Ganges.
The adrenaline poisons my muscles;
I pine to take a needle and
extract their souls, end that happy race.

Close my eyes, and I envision
newspapers crowing the dove's extinction.
How I'd beam to blind the Earth!
Opening my eyes, I mourn the loss
of killer instinct and know my
swords would betray me, leaving
me shriveled and rotting in the gutter.