A Dark HeroBehold the sky before a storm.
Behold a village waiting for reform.
The bells ring as a stranger draws near.
The villagers hope that their hero is here.
But this man rides a cold dark horse,
A novice rider shown by rough course.
He steers his steed into the courtyard of town.
All the civilians encircle him all around.
He paces left and right, forward and back.
He strokes the mane of his horse of black,
But this man cannot be the one.
He wouldn't fight, but flee and run.
No sword in his belt,
No heroism can be felt.
This man has no strength to show.
Best be on his way, get out, go!
As he rides away another horse is seen.
Like pearls of the ocean this one gleams.
The rider has long flowing hair.
His strong arms are tan and bare.
Now this man is in the peasant's crowd
As he expects to be praised and bowed.
Yet he wants too much because he knows he is much more
Than any man could ever be, especially that one before.
His sword is of rubies and gold,
But as he stands there no one is told.
poetry.But i love youpoetry.9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Will you be there when i die
kiss me one final time
catch me when i fall and bleed
would you even wanna cry
while you watch me slowly die
watching as my blooddrips
rolling off my finger tips
drips onto the floor
more and more
hearing all my bloody cries
watch tears roll from my eyes
gasping for one final breath
pain swells up in my chest
spreading through my arms and legs
but i can still feel pain
i try to regret nothing
but that is so hard to do
when all i hear is
"but i love you"