A Poem

I think I need an new hand gun, to keep away my neighbor, Ron. He's the kind of element you see, that can't be trusted, cannot be. Ron has a hand gun and so, if I have one, he'll have to know, that my gun counters his, you see, so his gun is held in check by me. My logic is in vain because in truth Ron is insane. My gun does not deter him, it doesn't even scare him. Turns out that I'm also insane, to think a weapon will win the game. This is not a game you win or would even choose, because when one of us wins, we all lose.  - Toby Venar