Review - Book At Bedtime (Poetry)

I could use my voice as a weapon
words sharpened to a knife
I could cut you out of printed paper
edit crudely-short your life

Would it help to trim that bloated ego —
just keep the essence — lose the rest?
I can see right through pretension
the heart that struts inside your chest

I test the dagger in my conscience
I hold it to your noisy throat
but the critic fails in view of friendship
when flattery’s the warmer coat

What’s the use of being honest when
we’re both too old and tired to fight?
And my opinion on your novel — well
I fell asleep last night