Iron

there is no description just read.

There was a way you would creak and limp on your iron leg.
I was afraid of your smile.
That cold shell.
Swallowing all those Men.
Men.
Men.
I was once one.
I cut away from that Nazi lampshade.
You will not brighten my bruises.
And by some luck one got caught in your throat.
His kicking leg had put you in a hult.
Made you choke ever so hard.
My giant daddy killer.
You coughed up those bodies.
And they rejoiced.
But still those bodies hung-
like limp rags over the night.