National Poetry Writing Month: Day Eight, "Beveline the Biting Blade"

 

Beware the biting blade,
Bloodied crimson red.
No one knows where she was made,
But she’s lopped off a hundred heads.

 

They say she’s hard as steel,
With a soul icy and mean.
She’s chilling to hold and feel,
And they say her name’s Beveline.

 

One scratch and you’re a goner for sure,
So deadly is her edge.
In a second you’ll hit the floor,
Cut down like a leaf from a hedge.

 

Bev’ll kill you a thousand different ways,
And if she’s bored she’ll run you through.
But it’s not just foes she slays,
For wielder can be felled too.

 

So if you face a foe brandishing Bev,
You’d better dig your own grave,
Cause there ain’t a chance in hell,
You’ll beat Beveline the Biting Blade.