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