The Choice
A strip of metal With the edges sharp A wooden handle ; doesn't look like much harm. A blade to cut bone , A blade to cut butter . He who is responsible is the one Who chose to murder . Drops of ink between the fingers , They who think Too often stutter . A pen to write love , A pen to write horror . We can pen what we love . This is freedom, however . In every step , A choice we get . We can always choose whether to love or hate . - Abhijith K Bose
