Sonnet Of The Forgotten Knight

Comes home from place of grainy sediment.
Where days were spent discharging sulfurous slugs.
Brings forth corporeal impediment.
When asked of soul, he merely offers shrugs. 
As sands drop down, confined to rolling throne,
Our battered knight recalls the days of yore
When damsels chased, yet only to bemoan 
Another favored—quandaries no more.
"Our gratitude is always yours," they say,
“The call, it came, you dutifully moved.
Our debt to you can we never repay.
Your valor shone bright, beautifully proved.”
His tears have stopped, no longer bears he strife.
Knight cries no more, for he’s taken his life.



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