Burn the silver from her eyes,
Sharp is the dagger that cuts blood ties

Swift is the arrow that breaks his heart,
Blunt is the ax that cleaves them apart.

Iron teeth and nails of steel,
Cool, the icy wind that heals.

Dare to calm the roaring flame,
Count the people who fear her name.

Drink the blood of fallen foes,
Unseen hands that no one knows.

The many faces she must wear,
A nameless burden, she must bear.

Shadows creep in the dead of night,
The assassin is silent, out of sight.

Slow is the sword that cannot win,
Conceal the flame, keep it in.

Break the collar of restraint,
Black, the keys you must obtain.

Burn the darkness from the night,
For she is the Queen of the Light.

Bronze glitters more
whereas Iron is natural and more useful

Bronze weakens with every blow irreverseably
whereas Iron strengthens with every repair

Bronze cannot be bent
whereas Iron can be used to make multiple products

Bronze dont mingle with others
tinge of carbon could enhance the power of Iron

Bronze melts at 1000°C
Iron could withstand and withhold for more

Bronze is denser
but Iron wins the strength game

Bronze does not rust
but Iron has the attractive magnetic power

Bronze is discovered earlier
but Iron dominates the world!

The afternoon heat hung like a rising fever.
The old iron gates of the school yard wait to swing.
My feet planted near the outskirts.
Sweeping the sticky hair from my face,
alone I wait.

Chocolate melted in my pocket.
Minutes turn to hours.
A gallery of photographs has passed me by.
Panic snickers, searching for your face.
The waiting, the patience,
feeling more like a punch, than a verb.

The chocolate now a sticky ink, staining my pants.
I feel a voyager aboard a lost ship, floating,
hoping for shore.

Sudden without warning,
you grace my sight,
slow motion, near the gate door.
In one swing, you're here.
The wait long forgot,
hung on your beautiful stare.

Iron which has been exposed to the rain, is likely to become rusty.
Weakening, brcoming fragile along the way, changing colours.
Because it couldn't resist the cruel, cold, pungent, sharp rain,
which has been brought by onimous, dark, clouds.
Those have come to claim the heavens, in malice, for themselves as they spread their offspring, letting it fall to the earth, fertilising it.
Once standing proud, the iron faced the weather carelessly, brave,
in such sense that it might have looked intimidating, impressive and
of course noble to some degree.
But for now it has aged, has become frail, feeble and slender.
Distorting its structure until suddenly it is not capable of holding
itself together, falling back down to the earth from which it came.
With enough care and treatment, such a fate would be avoidable,
But it is overlooked, chosen to be replaced instead of getting enough attention and so the metal decays in its oxidation, through time.
Until all of it has become a soft, crumbling powder.
Ruined by the simple raindrops, coming from a stormy day.

~ Umi

Maybe
I am just too young

And
I don't possess an iron lung

But
I am definitely where your heart has sunk.