A shank, however hard it tries,
Will always be bent.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the dirt covered earth,
Gently it goes - the resolute, the crooked, the unerect.

A hilt, however hard it tries,
Will always be ornamental.
Never forget the decorative and nonfunctional hilts.

Weapons are sharp edges.
Sharp edges are weapons.
Now old is just the thing,
Old blunts the edges

I saw the faint symbol of a generation destroyed,
How I mourned for a dagger.
Does a dagger make you shiver?
Does it?