Weapon

In the first year,

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.