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THE DARK KNIGHT
The sound of drums carried on the winds
as the Keep prepared for battle.
The time had come now,
as Kingdoms would fall only to rise once more
with new tyrants to rule.
Knights, clad in armour, would ride tall into battle.
Blood would spill, all in the name of honour to the various thrones,
scattered, combative.
The hearts of maidens shall be won,
heaving breasts shall blush from faintest kiss
as Death sweeps in, scythe in hand.
Queens with birth heirs to carry on these wars of blood and name
until one shall come, and with his blade, lay them all to shame.
He shall ride in strong,
black steed, black armour, sword at the ready.
Battle cry piercing, the drums shall drown when he calls out!
Maidens will sweep crystal tears at his feet,
beg for mercy beneath the stare of his cold coal coloured eyes.
Yet, give into his suave and debonair smile,
present themselves in most perfect fashion
as he woos each of them.
For Death, he does have an air of passion
that not even the strongest of Queens can avoid.
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May the Lord guard you wherever you go and guide you in whatever you do
and may His loving protection be a blessing to you always.
Sir Knight Dane of The O.C. Empire
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