Poetry Challenge Week 50!
We each have three names,
some people say.
One, we are given,
fresh and new to wear
as we set off down the road.
Stiff and unyielding,
as new leather boots
yet to soften with our steps.
Two, we inherit,
an heirloom stretching back.
Given by each generation
who polished and cleaned it
or threw it aside,
nicks and cracks stretching across the varnish.
Three, we make for ourselves.
Something newly forged,
created by our hands
and the words of those who travel
beside us.
The name of battles.
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