The Acutiator.

Grinding to sharpness

branded weaponry

finding the weakness

from its forgery

oil and stone

and my own technique

fine as edged bone

with a shine quite unique

the warriors, the seers

the midwives and priests

each hold a bond kept strong

never stay from my door too long

in times of need

and times of peace

everyone will eventually come to me

no matter what faces off with humanity

the steel will get dull inevitably

so all at once again

my fair-weather friends

will form a queue

and each will refuse

to leave until I’ve sharpened them

the generator

of the most deadly razor

the Acutiator

of all swordsmen

broad or small

I stone grind them all

until they all line back up again.



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