Spoiler
Written in May; constructive criticism, please, if I need say it. This is older, so I would be more open to editing, but please keep in mind that I'm not likely to edit my capitalisation. It's the thing I kind of cling to with the very fibres of my soul.
words are naught but weapons
wielded by the weak
who, in desperation,
do endlessly seek
the wonder of a rainbow
and the far-off misty dells
where winter has her residence
and summer never dwells
a sword, a spear, a scimitar
to hold off legions true;
that is what we tell ourselves,
we weak, we dark, we few
