My Knight

What of the stories, what of you, what of the words or what of my dew

Lies and lies

Strangled the fliers

Witnessed it, he has admirers

Sweetness and tartness ignored

Mulberry swallowed but in the heart it sored

What would the 'dead lips' pen

When it had not the truth, son

Curses though slip off

Feelings be never any dwarf

For to hate

Once there should have been love's bait tight

How dangling and dwindling

No shore was he ever kindling

Hours and hours

It takes no par

Touch not that knight

He has swords defending with might

How barren is he and

Knows not any scabbard

Those wands of enigma

That suits not the noble hands off stigma

Suitors of temper

Shooters of blood towels much damper

Is it your blood?

Shut-up for god's sake

Let's arrange him a slumber