All I am is a Sword;
Bathed with Blood;
Polished by Victory;
Damaged by Guilt;
Shaped by Strength;
Curved by Silence;
Looked upon with Fear;
Created by Strength Of Men.

Down the steps I am taken;
From hand to hand I change;
With each I bare more shame;
With each I control more fear.

My guilt cannot be washed;
My deeds cannot be mended, by the furnaces’ heat;
Feelings of mine are blinded by shine;
Silence controls me in every way;
Still I control under me, sounds of fear;
I am a great being with the pride of ownership;
Under many men, heros and pirates
All in the same flight of steps.

What I see no one knows;
As what my eyes meet;
Is washed away by my tears;
So fast that no one ever has time to see.

Who I am deep inside;
Knows not the people;
Who love me, I know not;
For what gets magnified is only the hatred.

In me I hold the lives I took;
What is really in them, I know not;
My fault it is not for my masters claimed them,
Yet I hold them because I only care for them.

Can I be loved if I am not?
Can I love more if I am not already?
Can I be my self if I put my mind out?
Can I believe in others if I am not?
Can I be trusted if I am not?
Will I ever stop being a murder?

The answers are in the flow of time;
And in my self – I “will” get it out right?!