we don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute

you want me to fight for you
but i cannot comply with the way
you desire, the way it has been wired within
you that only swords and guns can win wars.
worry not for i will wildly, unapologetically
use that which i call my own.

i promise:
i will wield my words until they draw
begs of mercy for something as sweet
as pain, i will shuffle my structure
and enjambe my sentences until they mush
together into one and become too cruel to read,
i will add commas and semi-colons and question marks
until i have them on their knees delirious—
unable to see the truth, that is staring
into their souls.

i promise:
i will turn bullets into roses,
i will turn blood into luscious fairy dust,
i will turn war into poetry.