My weapon is not a sword,
It is not a bow and arrow
Aimed at your head.
My weapon is not a bomb,
Steel and cold,
A revolutionary weapon,
To make your heart explode in two.
My weapon is not one that you stare down a narrow hole
As you press on the trigger slowly,
Contemplating to blow your brains out.
My weapon makes you stare in wonder,
For my weapon is way ahead of its time,
Although it was created so long ago.
My weapon is beautiful,
My weapon is ugly.
It damages property and heals it,
It breaks your heart,
And consoles you.
My weapon is
Written and spoken,
Wonderful and at the same time,
Hurtful as hell.
BANG, BANG.