He pees a trajectory.
That hits his father's
Nose.
At age five, he takes
Aim at a street bulb.
Hits it accurately,
With a stone.
When he turns ten,
Shoots off an arrow to
Damage a pig's eye,
From a wooden bow.
Then he fancies a
Slingshot at the turn,
Of fifteen. Off the roof
A pigeon shortly falls.
Now that he turns
Twenty-five, and
Stands holding a gun
In front of the mirror..
Unable to pull the trigger,
'Phew-phew-phew'
He says..
He doesn't know why.
His tongue can be a
Better weapon,
Its agility Over the years
He has realized.
And in the thirties,
He has but a big mouth,
To repeat lies and
Hack minds..
Weapons bring you
Victims. With words,
The victims become
Your weapons.
Propaganda works
That way.
Words are deadlier
Than bullets.
These days that's why
He's fully engaged..
In political debates.