I stand at the edge of it
At the edge of it all
I stand in spite of it
In spite of all it all
Category: poetry contest
THE SONG OF THE SWORD, Poetry by B R Peabody
In the pain of the furnace my body was forged,
Longer than life have I been;
The fury of battle is where I have gorged,
On kidney and liver and spleen;
You think me a trinket so prettily shown,
Yet many’s the life I have claimed;
