(Just something I wrote quickly in health class. Once again, I'm not sure on the punctuation.)
A monk meditates in the morning light
His smooth arms crossed, refusing to fight.
He stays put, proud and strong
But his attackers won't wait long.
They come to him and await his move
Then laugh when he remains calm and cool.
The assault begins with axe and saw
Chopping and hacking; they bite and gnaw.
The monk can't take it, he hits the ground.
A mass of limbs in a tangled mound.
He wanted harmony, he wanted peace
Instead he was killed, every branch and leaf.
