It’s heaven


Formed in fire
shaped by a merciless creator,
pounded into it’s gleaming beauty,
a work of art,
made for pain and death.

Ever thirsty seeking fulfillment,
its inner dryness,
driving its owner mad,
only slaked
by the blood of its victim.

So the sword waits
for it virginity to be broken,
as it is plunged into its first victim,
a screaming death,
filled with pain;
for the weapon man made;
it’s heaven