Tuesday, January 17, 2012


If I press the pen,
On the paper too hard.
I might speak to harshly,
Spatter blood on the crowd.

The pen might leak,
My voice might break.
And it might be a little bit more,
Than you can take.

My hopes blood,
Upon your skin.
I’d doubt your safely strapped,
For a trip back then.

But the rage fills my hand,
Courses my heart and arm.
With any careless phrase,
I’m far too happy to disarm.
If I just press the pen,
Or I scream too loud.
Speak so harshly,
I spatter blood on the crowd.
Danny Gunter

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