The Battered Knight
Insidious sickness, or aching dread
It saps my strength and leaves me dead.
Medusa's gaze or woman's scorn
More gladly, happily, easily borne.
But hating, seething, sneaking, writhing
Hiding, biting, never dying
Always lurking; leavens light
Peering darkly through smiles bright.
Violence, injury, even death
With courage faced, and yet...
I quail from kindness and from care
And other things that seem so fair.
A shadow flits, then sharply strikes.
Incorporeal mist, yet iron like
It vanishes, is never there
So futilely, feebly, I beat the air.
Looming darkly through the gloom
It towers darkly, like mountains ... doom!
It rushes in the joy to steal...
Such hideous power from mouths of meal!
Lies!


written by the lufmiester, 2003
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