I am a Sword

I am on fire, burning from the inside out.

I feel like a brand new sword, confused

As to why it’s been beaten and burned for so long.

I have neither soft nor dull edges

And no sheath to quench my thirst for battle and blood.

I am the talisman of victory. I am the artifact of defeat.

I have no lord for whom I pledge my allegiance;

No great cause to lend my might.

I was forged by a mighty hand against an unforgiving anvil’s edge

And now I gleam in the darkness and the light.

Will they sing songs of my glory or lament the destruction and chaos I cause?

Will I find my way into a hero’s hand or satisfy a villain’s iron grasp?

Will my blade become a liberator of the innocent

Or an oppressor of the helpless and weak?

O Creator, and master of your craft, why have you made me thus…

So cold and sharp, so beautiful and dangerous.


Frederick S. Blackmon, USA

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