take your knight in shinning armor,
same as the rest you bite into the ruse,
like a bright red,
shapely,
fresh apple,
only to taste the bitterness,
of prematurity,
fools to the facade,
all covet the armor,
polished,
bright,
un-notched,
forgeting the undented shield,
is unused,
cast off is the champion,
with cracked shield and lonely eyes,
sitting deep,
dull,
weary grey,
his duties being done,
still unsung.
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