Time, Sword, Mace

A small freeverse poem about things

To time, to sword, to mace,

Thick iron plates protect them there,

Useful against the ferocious attack,

Soon riddled with a million cracks,

Cracks formed of unexpected cause,

Not time, nor sword, nor mace,

A simple drop from a tired soldier,

In the precious moments of no disguise,

Ignorant to the cracks that will kill,

Leaving its owner open to attack,

to time, to sword, to mace,

The shield that promised to protect,

Its broken oaths scattered on the floor,

It killed its soldier, its weight unneeded,

Then the Armour realized its enemy,

Not time, not sword, not mace,