The Skirmish

Armed to the teeth
So to speak
Words, like bullets
Are gathered for battle
To be shot off
In rage or arguments.
The war begins: we trade
Volleys of epithets.
Shocked at our
White-hot hurtful words,
Our mouths jam up.
There is silence…
A truce?

.

- by Mark S. Foley


Go to Mark's Page

Poetry Page

Synergy Home