By the Sword

It was the
Sword he was
To fall upon.

After all, he
Had done it
Many times before.

We expected nothing
More from him.

So when he
Lifted it up,
Leaning the sword
Against his neck,
Hanging his arms,
Resting on it,
We were not
At all surprised.

He was though,
Having no idea
How sharp that
Blade really was.

His heads rests
Far afield and
Out of sight
While his sword
In memory, hangs.