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Your Accursed Pride
June 23, 2008
You, brave knight
Would never be so mighty
Had you a loss of your malicing sword.
Your damsel is awaiting you,
But has grown numb from the loneliness .
Your armor bent and scratched,
Can no longer shield you from the inferno.
Your noble steed?
Is barely a mule.
Your castle from the king?
It has crumbled.
That wicked wicked witch
was never after the maiden.
She has fooled you into false glory.
You point to the villagers.
Say they are unworthy.
But before you point your fingers
be sure your hands are clean.
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