An Umbrella
My sword was made of wood
Perhaps, I couldn't fight invincibly enough
But still resisted trustfully. My roots
And my beliefs were devilishly taught.
I could attack. I definitely could attack
Those metal flies that flew around my arms
Creating arcs,
Creating watery alarms.
My sword was wooden. Never good enough.
And still acceptable for such an outspoken rebel.
That time had passed. Instead it's rain above.
Instead, It's only me and an umbrella.
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