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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
imagine a world, where we'd fight with words wouldn't that be better than spilling blood?

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 20, 2017



I was a fighter
Now I’m a writer 
my words are  my shield 
my sword my whit
I now fight my battles 
With the words that drip 
From my lips 

It’s no longer physical 
My knuckles no longer bruise 
What comes out of my mouth
Are words which I choose to use

There is no point in arguing 
I’ll win every time 
And some words I use 
May cross the line 
But all I am doing
 is speaking my mind

there’s nothing more gratifying 
than a descent debate 
but I’ll tell you now 
I’ll serve you up on a plate 
Because the answers I give 
Will have you trumped 
And you’ll scratch your head 
because I’ll have you stumped

I can use my words wisely 
And get what I want 
Make your mild muddled 
So you feel like a chump 

The words we use daily 
Defines who that we are 
So use them wisely 
Keep raising that barr
Then maybe just maybe 
In life you’ll get far 

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