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A Weapon So Keen
She was the blade and the blade was her
She was the arrow singing, the lioness’s purr
And the shamshir was singing a song of the ones
The ones from long ago, their escapades and deeds done
The broadsword’s edge was lit on fire
Silhouetted against a burning tower’s spire
They were her weapons, weapons so keen.
~
She was the light and the night
She was the irrevocable fight
She was the requiem of the curved rudus
The threnody of the talwar’s lust
The sweat of the saber dripped
Onto parched battlefields, dust, skeletons that sipped
All they could from the blade
That cut down heroes of old, that made them fade
They were her weapons, weapons so keen
~
She was the moon’s lonesome companion fellow
She was the echo in the cavern that bids hello
And the dirk spun in hand
Used to cut through traveling merry bands
The dirk, it sang a mournful dirge
The rapier, now, it was rapacious
It screamed into the mistrals with its cry of a scourge
The slender katana was vivacious
In its rhapsody of the bloody rivers spilled
Didn’t mean a thing
They were her weapons, her weapons so keen
~
She was a mother’s weary sigh
She had the look of a plunging raptor in her onyx eyes
Her hanzo hefted high
Her cutlass raised in a warrior’s salute towards the sky
A salute of blood spilled, and opponents worthy
A salute of drinking in dim taverns after the loss of a brother-in-arms, a sister-in-arms
A salute to a carotid artery punctured on the tip of a newly polished blade
A salute to the winning of nations, thrones, and the loss of flesh and bone
All because of her weapons. Her weapons so keen.
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Inspired by the quote in my bio haha