Weak Knights

Mocking Bird Down

There is a weakness in the voice of the
man who bends only to gawk.
The man who believes that valour
always settles in an attractive sort
of subtle distinction on his suit of
shining armour.
There is a weakness in the man who
wants so badly to drape a flower on his arm, and
call her his. To love and protect, to hold
and to mould, and to cling to and to suffocate and
to push and to lean on. To show to
his other rusted knights.
There is a weakness in the man
who’s self-awareness is limited to ‘her’.
His ornament; he wears her and
she is on her best behaviour.
Dutiful. And just as weak.

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