Battlefield Sword: A Poem

Spinning

I am strength and beauty in my ancient armor.

Battling each lord and knight

Hiding behind my faceplate

 

Yet I wonder

Is there any sword that can pierce this steel?

Or lance that can stay this spinning?

Might a mace expose the bone of a hidden mind?

 

Or will I forever remain covered?

 

Ever encased.

 

Ever turning.

Without pause

Or rest

From the battlefield

 

 

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