A dastardly
How you arrive like a
knight respected in the
country-side here.
Your horse
eats our grass,
something
we
eventually
had to rely upon.......
You huff and puff
under a helmet
hiding the scars,
of where
your own
brother,
melted
your face,
to a fire,
your
favourite
toy,
sickness
of men,
not boys
You demand
chickens
roasted
to your tastes,
as your
friends
lay to waste.
My daughter,
was saving
herself
for far
more of worth
than broken
soldiers.
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