Hold me, young warrior; behold my stark blades!
Lay me in the palm of your hand; Throw me to cast death!
On whomever I make landfall, their eyes see the grim shade
Look how it smears them… Then suddenly stops their breath
Be careful, young warrior; take care on how you wield me
Will I serve for well or ill? You, Master, must decide
Should I be an instrument for good, the banes of man shall flee
But should a demon’s claw use me, Hell will unleash far and wide!
I only yearn to be thrown with stealth and skill!
I can’t choose what side I must serve! By myself, I fly with no purpose!
Will you aim to slaughter the Devil, or will it be an angel you kill?
Will peace bloom from your valiance, or will the Underworld’s powers surface?
My design spells flesh-cutting death; My arms bring bloodshed
The potency of my nature seduces pompous men, and can poison hearts of folly
Will you let my fatal potential get to your ego’s head?
Will you cast me for the fun of seeing blood, as scarlet berries on holly?
Do what you must, warrior; do what you wish, my Master
Don’t credit me for the victory; don’t blame me for the chaos
I am but an object, a weapon to bring the grisly death faster
If you send me to kill the innocence of man, it’s your soul’s loss
Poetry
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