 I was forged from metal with death as my intended friend and yet life was breathed into me when I was made in the heavens. I'm cold, metallic my skin, too prone to only Allah is one. The only baths I take are in the blood of evil ones. The first words on newborn baby hairs, the first words on newborn baby hairs are La ilaha illallah Muhammad Rasulallah The first words that met my ears were I seek out tyrants and I cut out the most evil of tongues where I live it rains blood and the dust of battle fills my lungs. My skin is made from heavenly metal forged not on this earth. When I descended from the heavens it was Zif Jibrail himself gave birth. I'm royal, loyal, I sit patiently till I'm needed when innocents are in danger to the son of Abu Talib I'm handed. Swords are brain dead, swords are brain dead, branded whilst I'm alive in the flesh. I flush out darkness from this world and I watch it into hell. Crush, heels crush, Arkely's heels crush, Ali heel crush, any enemy when I'm in his hand I make other swords blush. Me and Ali are intertwined just like his prayer and the divine. None can define or find me in battle. I make Omeya blind. I bind hands together just because they shake in fear when the combination of me and Ali toward them come near. When I was at Uhud, I watched our own men run away. They cleared the battle like cattle and I saw Muhammad's hopes weigh. Ali turned to the angel of death. Ali turned to the angel of death. And he said, stay out of my way. He grabbed me easily as if by a feather I could be outweighed, outraged inside him, the angle of the creator. He leapt like a leopard into battle. Wherever he fell, he left the crater. I toughened up my metal blunt. Not that my metal was blunt, but my courage was unapologetic. My blade sharp at its front. I cut through men as if they were nothing but paper. I cut through whatever made Muhammad feel danger. Endangered species felt hope as they watched me destroy man. With every strike I recited the Quran. They planned and Allah plans. It's as if my metal turned to fire. Knowing that Muhammad was alone, my skin could not be scorched and unbreakable my bone. I brought grave diggers business. I brought grave diggers business and gave them plenty of tombs. But I left so much blood scattered on Allah's beautiful Sanjoon. I'm necessary, but merciful. I'm necessary, but merciful. My wielder is of mercyful. One time we were about to kill someone. Above him we stood tall. The man said, Ali, I heard you never deny a request when your name is called. So drop your sword, he said. Ali, drop me and to the earth I'd fall. I was conceived out of necessity. Islam is dignity. Islam is peace. But it defends the weak against tyranny. It's thanks to me and Khadija's money that Islam survived. I came to defend the Muslims. When of life itself they were deprived. The majority of the time I sat in Ali's house. Cheathed. Gathering dust. Watching how he lived with his spouse. I'd watched the lady of light clean and Ali sweep around her feet. When they'd cook the door would knock and the beggar at the door they would feed. I never saw the house of Ali turn away a beggar. If a thousand years pass and beggars came, they'd still answer. After a while I'd see kids crawling around the floor. Every so often Hussein would call to me and look at me in awe. Ali would pick him up and place him firmly on his leg. He'd only kiss him in two places. On his chest and on his neck. Ali would pick him up and place Hussein on his leg. He'd only kiss him in two places. On his chest and on his neck. I wondered if I'd defend him one day. And that was my purpose. I'd see kids crawling around the floor every so often Hussein would call to me and look at me in awe. I'd see kids crawling around the floor every so often Hussein would call to me and look at me in awe. I'd see kids crawling around the floor every so often Hussein would crawl to me and look at me in awe. Ali would pick him up and place him firmly on his leg. He'd only kiss him in two places. On his chest and on his neck. I wondered if I'd defend him one day. And if that was my purpose. If that was my purpose. I wondered if I'd defend him one day and if that was my purpose, it's as if Ali heard me and said, no, that job is for Abbas. Who's Abbas, I wondered? And why does Ali cry sometimes? He pour grains of sand on me sometimes and say, these are Karbala's grains. Karbala? I've never heard of such a place. I didn't understand, so I'd sit in the corner of the house right there on the stand. We would venture out sometimes, once in a while to defend Muslim lands. I remember Hunayn. I'm laughing because alone against 11,000 we stand. I remember Ali's hands being lifted at Ghadir. But after that, I felt like he all went downhill from there. The best of creation died and Ali buried him himself before he passed away. He told Ali, sabr, sabr before even yourself. I vow to defend my family and for the sake of my Lord that men will remember Ahlul bait whenever they remember the two pronged sword. After the Prophet passed, things became hostile. I smiled, it's been a while. Surely Ali would pick me up if threatened him someone vile and if someone threatened his wife, no question, they would want to die. Men like Ali stand up for their woman before they even think to cry. The time came, Ali was praying and the night was much too silent. Fatima was in awe and she was praying for patience. I sat in the corner, my blade itching, my handle twitching, yearning the stitching of any flesh or skin that is bewitching. Men knocked on the door and I watched Fatima go towards it. Men knocked on the door and I watched Fatima go towards it. I heard yelling and shouting and the door on fire lit. It all happened so fast and Ali was lost in his prayer and yet they found Fatima behind the door in despair. They told him Fatima was inside and he cried out, so what? He pushed the door against her and her rib in the nail was caught. The men flooded into the house and before Ali could even turn, I thought maybe he would reach for me. His hands, my handle would yearn. My handle naked. I couldn't handle or face it. The children crying and calling as if the Prophet's grandsons or orphans, my eye caught Fatima and I saw blood all over the floor. She cried out, the call came from her soul's core. I'm not used to seeing so many oppressed people around me. Whenever I see evil, it's as if deaths around me. I saw him walking to Fatima with his eye on her cheek. I saw him walking to Fatima with his eye on her cheek. I tried my best to move myself. I tried my best to move myself and I even felt my two-pronged blade shake. I stood there helplessly and I watched him slap my mother in her face for the first time in my life. I wish I were anywhere but this place. The flames filled the house and I felt as if I were in hell. Hell in the house that heavens yearn for is this acceptable? Ali is chained up. Ali is chained up but I still managed to see through the smoke before he left the house. He turned and looked at me. I have no heart but I tell you my heart broke. I have no heart but I tell you my heart broke. Fatima passed away and I've never seen Ali so broken. Me and him used to speak all the time but since then we've never spoken. It's been a thousand years. It's been a thousand years and I've seen many things. I'm older now. I also fought through Karbala but that story I'll spare you for now. I'm the most famous sword in history and yet now I'm the most lonely. I'm the most famous sword in history and yet now I'm the most lonely sheathed deep in a pocket that belongs to the awaited Mehdi. My metal has somewhat faded. I'm not as young as I once was. It's been a thousand years and I've forgotten the taste of evil blood. Where I am man I'd have a white beard and my eyesight wouldn't work so great. That's because every single day I look up at Mehdi and I wait. Is today the day master? How many people are suffering? How many Fatimas are slapped today? How many Zaynebs are weeping? How many Zaynebs are weeping? He never makes eye contact with me. He never makes eye contact with me. I think it's because he knows that he'll never make his appearance until Allah allows. I was used so many times. I was used so many times what I learned from them all was justice and mercy. So I pray for Allah to hasten the reappearance of the Mehdi. I pray for Allah to hasten the reappearance of the Mehdi. I pray for Muhammad and for Muhammad.