my pen is deadly* \ but it cannot stop
the force of a bullet
and
my words are sharp / but they cannot stop
the blow of a bomb
and
my thoughts are strong \ but they cannot stop
the anger of men
because
if i could a sow peace around the world
with just a pencil
i would
but like i've said
my weapons are strong / but no match for  
     a
         war
                 started
                               long
                                        long
                                                 ago
i mean really,
what can a word-hungry poet do
amongst
blood-thirsty warriors?