Don’t you find it confusing,
That what was once a cooking utensil,
Sometimes a utility tool,
Is now a lethal weapon?
A weapon of choice for young men,
Wanting to intimidate,
Inflict violence,
Cause pain.
Instead of using their voice box
To talk,
The blade now becomes
The voice of reason.
Instead of being shiny and beautiful,
Silver has become a colour
Connected to violence
And death.
Sometimes the cold sharp blade
Slashes or cuts,
Leaving the victim lucky
With just a permanent scar;
But there are the times
When it will slice through
A little deeper,
Penetrate an artery or puncture an organ,
Leaving the victim not only with a scar
But a time of death.
Because with that weapon in their hand
They feel big,
They feel strong,
They’ve got power pumping through their veins;
Without realising that blade
Isn’t a part of them,
That they alone
Will have to deal with the punishment,
The consequences,
The hurt faces of family and friends,
But that knife they held
In the palm in their hands
Will still be completely free.
The peom is literally so true. Because as you said, a knife was suppose to be harmless, but is not.
It made me think can we humans take any more wrong advantage about what’s given or provided to us.
Thank you. I really like your thoughts and sentiments, as it gives the poem a whole other dimension. It’s definitely an interesting way to look at things.