Early in debate, two sharp points were made.
Succinct as a dagger’s thrust; both cut deep.
To be driven home, each decisive blade
was further twisted so that wounds would weep.
.
The angles of intrusion were acute;
on passage, both knives parted flesh from bone,
lanced the stomach, and punctured lungs on route.
They came to rest, rigid as steel in stone.
.
Life fled with terminal ferocity;
those in witness stopped in forensic pause.
So said, there shed a crude atrocity;
making death’s bed their pointless common cause.
.
For those who debate, agreement is death;
a sign of weakness ... such a waste of breath.
.
© Tim Grace, 14 October 2012
(Revised: 25 April 2024)
About the Creator
Tim Grace
A first impression has a lasting effect - it makes a notable difference. In a subtle way that’s who I am as a poet. A ‘first impression’ looking for the gentle ‘twist’ that draws attention to a novel observation.
Comments (1)
This was so profound. Loved your poem!