Of Demons and Knights
Slithers of glass like gossamer strands,
caressed on flesh cause bleeding hands,
Weeping tears of crimson sorrow,
a red sun rising on a bleak tomorrow.
Glazed eyes, still watch for the Knight's white steed,
yet on fading hope, dark demons will feed.
Can a heart still beat, whilst in fragmented parts,
from dreams turned to dust from the second they start?
Yet while hope remains the sun will rise,
and though the 'morrow the heart may despise,
Some day, some time the demons will flee
for there on the horizon the knight shall be.
01-10-04 written by my dear friend, Gemma Doyle, and myself.