Difference between revisions of "The Lute"
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Latest revision as of 14:59, 1 August 2012
Title: The Lute
Author: Dupre
The lute in mine hands as I softly strum,
cries for it knows the hollow man I have become,
of my tragedy, of my sorrow, of my lonely dispair.
Only my lute listens, alone, only it cares.
Though I am a knight, and mine emotions I hide,
I still feel the soul-eating darkness inside.
I am a man of the sword, but the blackness I feel I cannot ward.
The green swine came, silent coward attacks,
with bow and arrow, with sword and axe.
They came four our blood, for our flesh to eat,
We hacked them to death, our blades flaying their meat.
Though I have loved her, she still left this life,
her pale white skin pierced by a goblin's bloody knife.
But I am left here, an empty shell of a man.
I cannot speak, the sorrow is more than I can stand.
Others drink themselves blind, but I cannot partake
The others celebrate, but smiles I can't fake.
I will sit here by the fire and softly strum,
only my lute knows the hollow man I have finally become.
