If Pen is mightier than the sword
I am dead man walking
All of these letters,  bullets.
They rip through
Skin and crush bone
Words  sharp
gnaw
On
Ears
And eyes
Line after line
Cuts as paper a thousand times over
Every vowel and every consonant
Transformed into verse
Hammers
Flesh into submission
I will bleed
With each allusion
Would I have known
That in this was no healing balm
This poetry  is
Idolatry
And this is my suicide