Always A Fight to the Death

[redsea_greysky]

Two men close the door on the wave
of noise bursting from the pub.

A poet and warrior quarrel.
They know not of what they say.

Blinded by the radiance of pride,
The argument erupts in the snow.

The poet grabs his pen,
And the glimering diamonds turn red.

He is alarmed and grows silent.
One cannot speak with a sword in their throat.

So the sword is mightier than the pen;
A fool knows this.

Blood and death
Not ink and parchment
win wars.