BEYOND THE RUST

they focused on the rust, forgot it's cutting edge, they didn't care where it slept whether it was rained on or its handle, cracked by sunlight all they feared was getting tainted by its rust, or getting infected from it but they sit by the tree it fell yes, the rusted cutlass fell a tree and they sit feeding off its fruit they remain mum, mouths full their bellies groan with content but who cares for a rusted machete?