{poem two: the pencil}

The utensil in my hand,

The weapon of choice,

It is capable of harm,

The words are the knife plunging into the chest of an innocent.

It is also a creator of gifts,

For the words can heal an open wound,

Or can make a relatable song,

For those who have been hurt as you have.

Words can hurt,

Words can heal,

But it is your choice,

To chose which they will do.