Echoes of Steel
Heavy it rests within my hand,
an object of formidable stand,
forged of iron, wood, and chrome;
manual function, monotone.
The elongated form, firm in my grasp,
The consequences not to be taken in jest.
The weight scarcely do I feel.
Beware, for the aftermath is real!
I feel its chill against my brow,
can hear my teeth chat…
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