Just a little poem, spur of the moment, concerning one lone musketeer.
Hope you enjoy it! : )
They say I'm the silent one, The padre, the poet… They do not see how I fight, The feral glint in my eyes, The sheer number of deaths by my sword… They wonder how the nightly sentinels disappear, How trained warriors, Silent vigils of the rooftops, Fall without a sound. They do not ask me, They do not see the blood on my hands, My sword, my cross… Athos, Porthos, D'Artagnan… You are my only true friends, And you don't know me at all.
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