The Slowest Sorrow

Like the sweetest summer sunset,

Revenge is a sick, sad dream,

It causes wounds without bloodshed,

Like a poker game without bet,

Trying to make cheese without cream,

And after, the blood stains red,

The mentally damaged aged vet,

A rusty cutting edge, unable to ream,

A poison savor, the metallic taste of lead,

Make war and not peace,

Make death and not life.