The beat of a different drummer, the rhythm that forms its song,
The ratta-tat-tat of the lonely drum, the war call it brings along,
Words of engagement underlie, beneath the beating cadence,
The march of weary, blood torn feet, continue with reverence.
Often our words get in the way, they pound deep within our heart,
Tearing away at others’ thoughts, breaking a friendship apart,
In our narrow way of thinking, to pursue what we believe,
We sever close relationships, which we never can retrieve.
Is it worth it to beat the drum, do our words mean anything,
They injure more than a bullet, they create a deadly sting,
They need to be thought out fully, before we utter a word,
So tempers don’t flare or fester and anger will not be stirred.