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You hang by my side.
Solid, powerful.
You don't lie.

You are true,
sharp and refined.
Every gleam and bump.
Found a reason over time.

You don't stray from me,
For a second in time.
I know you can be trusted.
You never lie.

Ever sway on my horse,
You plod along too.
That cougar, that bear,
It might feel you too.

You snap with a bite,
You bite with a force.
You grab what I ask.
You make it no more.

You are what I need,
In those moments I face.
Do you know what you are?
You are my saving grace.

The last breath might instead be the start.
Because you are the monster that will eat the heart.
You are called wicked, along with your kin.
But my dear Smith and Wesson, where do I begin?

Searing in my hand in the moment of truth,
You could save my life and maybe even two.
The thick strong horse, may carry me far.
But far is long, when his heart beats no more.

The idle men of cities forget these moments.
They say that your power is the devil for rent.
That with out you there would be no pain.
But if I lost you, what would save me when I drop a rein?

When the predator decides that he wants me.
My horse is not that loyal when he could flee.
On that hard ground that I am ******.
You quickly become my must.

Don't doubt your use,
Because the bones and ****** truth,
Finds you as my protector,
Above any other.