The Stand Poem by John Ode

With fleeting breath I stand for standings sake,
For battered skin and broken limbs do not a hero make.
But when my spine all cracked and broken musters one more stand,
I'll tear the heart and fight from every killing man.
Amidst this wreckage of cruel intent I'll stand with sharpened eyes,
And cut the palm from every hand that ever sealed a lie.
When death creeps its way into my lungs and rots away my skin,
I'll smile at those who'd destroy me and the stand I found within.