in another world,
words are weapons.

haikus are like hand grenades.
five-seven-five exactly
and the world can explode.

my free verse has become
a biological weapon,
infectious and changing.
the people you were before
won't survive this apocalypse.

sonnets scream just like
nuclear warheads.
limericks adapt just like
amphibious vehicles.

couplets seem innocuous,
but the power they hold
rivals that of a bomb.

in another world,
words are weapons,
and instead of blood
we spill ink.