For shits and giggles.
With mind control there he was,
A man for sale…
Hearing the vocal sound from this wordsmith,
A man in his own tale…
Currently he was sitting and calling upon the earth.
Prior rumors of his love for the Queen.
Yet to come would be a bard singing for Her Majesty–
A fool wrapped in a cowardly way.
Flowers and scars sat on his floor.
A torn heart making its way out the door.
He caresses the image of her on his mind.
This man, this bard, sang a song for the blind.
Releasing a soft note, she turns towards the sun.
Forgetting the ferocious rage of the king.
The man kneels with the light flashing in his face.
He drinks with his eyes, one moment of glee.
His head lands under the moons winter space.
Never again, will he spend his days thinking.
Never again, will he feel the shivers when calling upon the earth and her beauty.
Never will he know, he was the tune that eased her thirst.
A man’s tale always ends under a women’s spell.
Deceive, False Pretense, Nope!