Staggering Daggers

This poem was inspired by my first accounting job. :-)


The words come spewing out like daggers.
Feelings are hurt and my soul staggers.
It’s not just her, but it’s him, too.
Symbolic of my feelings, the building is drenched in blue.

Becoming an accountant is one of my dreams,
But working here loses its appeal as she screams.
Where did they learn that anger motivates?
Sometimes the front doors are as hell’s gates.

Staggering daggers: that’s what angry words are.
It matters not whether they come from near or far.
It’s a good thing I don’t drink.
This place would have inspired it long ago, I think.

Who’s to say it’s not rational?!
After all, the problem is international.
Ah, but that is the problem, my friend!
It is to the father of all lies that our knees do bend.

That’s not to say that anger is unnatural in us all.
It is when we are blinded in fury that we fall.
“What is the solution, then?” you ask.
To remember that all are children of God is our first task.

Next, keep your composure, but don’t keep score.
Otherwise, their dignity will be trampled on the floor.
Which one of us is looking to be trampled?!
Love is the thing that needs to be sampled.

Remember that angry words said in fury
Will convict in front of the one-man (or woman) jury.
For such words come forth as staggering daggers.
Now tell me, why is it that she swaggers?