Thee widower knight living in a scope of choices.
Thy lover shouldn’t have came back in a coffin.
But she was killed by selfish decisions.
Thy grave could have been kept kept vacant.
But thy shadow of death couldn’t spare thy mortal vein.
Thee knight is now left in self pity to wallow.
But he is not to blame for that night that sneaked and brought forth pain.
Thy memory should be kept sacred in core of the heart.
But thy wine won’t help you to survive.
But it will delay thy wounded mind from healing.
As thy heart is bleeding.
It won’t help dealing with the numb with needles.
Many stones were left unturned, many song were left unsung and many words were left unspoken.