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Trisha Lee Sauvageau

A King and his Shield

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Upon my might,

Cut me quick and right.

I hold a sword and shield,

The power I always wield.

As my alleys splinter,

Stabbing me with cold winter.

Every piece of metal a story,

A line of its owners glory.

Blood lapping across my armor,

Scarlett stark contrast like liquid garner.

I stand when it seems impossible,

Further harding my legend to that of uncrossable.

Yet in the shadows I collapse,

A huddled mass made of glass.

Torn apart to my very soul,

So empty and barren the role.

My traitors growing in number,

My heart hallowed out in this blunder.

Only crashing when no one's around,

And drowning enemies on public ground.

I'm a separate person,

As my soul does worsen.

Yet here I stand a knight holding sword and shield,

A solitary figure that none can build.

The only survivor of this battlefield,

All enemies and allies there blood splashed across all I wield.

My story is told to all,

My legend larger then this empty hall.

Of a knight none could fall.

Who stands statue strong and tall.

Of the king of this shadow lands,

Of a hero and not of humans.

But remember my friends splayed across the floor,

As I turn away and hide behind a castle door.

My subjects a chest board,

With no pieces that can be restored.

If only I never took my place,

As the leader destiny set for me to embrace.

Yet here I stand,

A knight and king without the future I demand.