A sword, its curved blade
in an enigmatic smile shines,
concealing all dishonorable
objectives, stands displayed
on an alabaster white wall.

A sassy girl, hurriedly passing,
for a moment stood arrested
ran her thin, long, fingers over
the sharp blade, as if caressing
her lover, blushed for a moment,
then left hesitating, looking back.

A hot blooded youth,
his face arrogant and taut,
stood in front as if he owns it,
then that expression changes for this:
"I am it"

An old lady with
a million lines of pain running
crisscross across her face,
at the very first look, the universal mother,
had a rude shock, seeing this;
her disdain expresses in her voice thus:
"How barbaric! look at its hidden blood thirst"

Then, walks in the gentleman
wearing a green berret, as if he has
just come out of his olive green uniform,
marching stiffly as if it's a parade ground, he badly misses,
a look of admiration passes through his face
"What a fine piece, best for close combat" he rues
evidently he loves crude methods,
forgets battle fields are created first within warped brains.

A sprightly white lizard chasing a bug
accidentally steps up on
the cold blade of the sleepy sword,
as if struck by an electric shock,
down it somersaults,
falls on the ground with a dull sound,
looks up to see the strange attacker
that frightened him,
wanting to avoid any future confrontation.