I wrote this poem in the middle of the night. I was laying in bed thinking like I often do and this poem started to read itself to me. Least to say I immediately picked up my notebook and started to type.
If asked when young which I thought better,
The inked tip of my pen
or honed blade of my sword
Without thinking twice I’d have replied:
“My sword can cut all who stand in my way
but my pen can express my feelings.
If I had to choose which one to take,
Sword in hand, I’d leave them bleeding.”
But as I look at that younger self,
And the meaning of the phrase,
I wish I had been there to help,
To show him the better way.
The sword is strong in its own way,
But the pen holds all the aces,
For while a sword can cut your foes,
The pen will take you places.
If I had met my younger self,
I’d have set him true,
That writing, knowledge, and emotion,
Are things a sword can never do.
And if he still took the sword,
I’d slip the pen in his back pocket,
As he would grow up into I,
and I would want it sooner.