Commonality.

Pens pack a punch of which swords can only dream
The weaponless soldier has lost his merit,
But the writer will always have his mouth.
Yet broken dreams of both lay seige to the moonbeam.

We strive and reach for the unattainable
A dreamer left with no time for sleep
Will lose his last mark of sanity-
As the glass of wine falls from the table.

Thus I sharpen my tongue just like a knife
and we will see what blood may flow
In this invisible cirlce we have made.
With many infamous words do we end a life.

I stuck my foot in my mouth and lost a toe
But at least now the bullet will miss,
Seeing as how the target is smaller.
There’s always an upside to our bit of woe.

{CK}