My knight in tarnished armor
A hero without a steed.
Before you go after windmills,
Please listen to my heed.
The enemies you chase after,
Ghosts from your past.
Disown you in your anger,
To feel not the blows you cast.
The inflected wound may not be mortal
And appear to be healed.
But the poison conveyed by your words
Carries a hurt concealed.
And by your side I wish to stand
You know that is my hearts desire
But I fear from you a killing blow
Mortified by your friendly fire.
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