A thousand swords, bound to one hand,
Edge of steel cuts through the sand.
Shadowed eyes, they see through time,
Blood and metal, rhythm and rhyme.
A forge within, stoked by fear,
Echoes calling, loud and clear.
Iron whispers, unspoken charms,
Behold the Master of Arms.
Master of arms, hold the fire,
In the silence of sharpened desire.
In the night, beneath the scars,
A guardian lost among the stars.
Bones and dust, they fall like rain,
Ashes dance to an ancient strain.
He moves unseen, a ghost, a spark,
Lighting torches deep in the dark.
Hands that weave a sacred thread,
Stitching dreams of those long dead.
Through every strike, a truth disarms,
In the hands of the Master of Arms.
Master of arms, hold the fire,
In the silence of sharpened desire.
In the night, beneath the scars,
A guardian lost among the stars.
Flesh is weak, the spirit worn,
But forged anew with every thorn.
With every blade, a soul reborn,
Torn and tempered, love and scorn.
Rust on the edge, a crack in the steel,
He learns to wound, learns to heal.
Caught between the sound and the sparks,
A silent watcher in the dark.
Breathing metal, tasting rust,
Binding hearts with broken trust.
He wields the power, both charm and harm,
A dance with death-the Master of Arms.
Master of arms, lost in the flame,
Every victory carved with pain.
Under the weight of ancient scars,
A fading legend among the stars.