Rust

For a few decades
I laughed.
Caught up in
An enviable pretence
Of joy.
The laughter was fine.
It encompassed all
And meant there
Was nothing
To disturb me – ever.
And while I laughed
There was armour.
A sword even.
But then came
Another year
And instead
There were hollow echoes.
And the sword
Rusted.

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