I wanted to write a silly poem about a barbarian expressing appreciation for their battle axe. That's about as deep as this one goes!

You started raw;

Crude iron drawn from the earth by miner’s hands.

And now look on you!

Wielded by warriors far and wide,

Marching the endless steps of conquest’s dire path.

The smith did well when they shaped you.

Tempered by forge’s heat and hammer’s cry.

Honing your sharp blade into the bane of all,

Who dare the error of tempting your wrath.

Helms and skulls have cracked beneath your blows.

Warriors by your hack turned to crimson fountains.

You are the victor’s chosen tool,

Splitting the shields and bone of all that stand in your way.

Notched and scarred by battles unnumbered,

You ride now in sling upon my worthy back.

Stalwart companion on my road to glory.

I salute thee and your might,

None I trust more in dawn of battle’s light.