The poets cannot love the words they write
They send them off to wage a verbal war
Mere pawns in an eternal fight for truth
Meant to uncover what we think is right
Or so we think when all is black and white
And letters stand so boldly on the page
Like soldiers at the ready poised to strike
They storm the darkness to reveal the light
But battle's blaze confuses flight and fight
Our passions turn the paper red with rage
War is no means to an enlightened age.
Blindly pursuing wrongs we trample right.
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