My version of the pen vs. the sword. |
The challenge resides in your eyes as you wait for me patiently, thinking to catch me off guard and so finding easy prey for the predator you are. You chose the sword, I chose pen and paper, and your laughter echoes. as you lunge, expecting an easy kill. My weapon possesses more strength than you have attributed to it- the pen stops you dead in your tracks as it writes. Writes your suffering, humiliation, darkest and most well-kept secrets. All revealed. I have just one question: Why fight me? Shocked and angry at the invasion of your mind, you lunge at me, but fail to strike. The pen is winning- just answer me. You shake your head in horror, still refusing, and I sigh in resignation, explaining that this wasn't the only way, not the only path. Finally you answer me, and I drop the pen, letting it stop its stealing flow, and your answer, quite honestly, astounds me utterly. You fight me because you respect me, because I'm not afraid to be different, and that terrifies you to no end. I laugh then, long and loud and hard, and tell you how wrong you are. The face you see is not mine, but yours. The sword you hold is but a mirror to the thoughts that lie inside, and the pen but a conduit to the truth you hide. |