Of books and looks

There are those who use Beauty as a weapon,
Cold and steel,
Aimed not to please but your weakness to reveal.

And then there are those who use Words as a weapon
Searing and sharp,
Aimed not to heal but your mind and senses to warp.

They don't need other weapons,
Weapons that kill,

Their victims lie bloodless in a pool of their own shame,
As they move on, relentless, in their hunt for new game.

Imagine the meeting if the twain were to meet,

Would beauty rule the day and words simply fail?
Or would words slay the beauty and quietly prevail?

Or would they turn their weapons onto themselves?
Blind in the faith of their own power,
Would they destroy themselves instead of facing each other?