Was I a pen

Was I a pen

I’d scribble peace

Upon the wincing face

Of Earth’s troubled waters

Was I a crayon

I’ll wax my colours

Upon patches

Bland with misery

Was I a chisel

I’ll file out excesses

That has left Man

Obese with evil intentions

Was I a keypad

I’ll be the type

Who punches the nose

That holds us breathless

But I can be all of these

If you give me your hand

So, together we can wrap our fist

And strangle life out of Hate

Happy World Poetry Day