Bullet and blade
Have ended
Many a friend.
Some were warriors
Living by sword, others
Just unlucky.
No one safe from
Anything. I buy her
Pepperspray instead of
Flowers these days.
Keep leaving
Butterfly knives in the
Pockets of her coats.
I am a man of non-violence,
But one with worlds to lose.
I miss the days when the fight
Ended as ground was hit.
Knuckles and bones were
All we needed; men fencing
For themselves with nothing
But themselves,
And women were there to be
Charmed and fought over. Not
Left torn and terrified
In a ditch, broken beyond repair,
Their men helplessly wielding
Lead and steel at the absence
Of the animal responsible.
I'll buy her flowers today.
Flowers, and walk her home.
Bullet and blade
Have ended
Many a friend.
The weight of their
Tragedies is about the
Same
As that of the crates of ammunition
It takes to keep the world
Safe from the threat of itself.