Unlimited Day.⁠⁠

You are not the bone of your sword,

that doesn't even make sense

Your body is not made of steel,

and if your blood was fire you would die

You have made little to no blades whatsoever

Unknown to death only because you won't pull the trigger

Nor known to life because you are a loser

Have not created many weapons, but did withstand pain

Yes, those hands will never hold anything

So as I pray, Unlimited Sad Works