In taverns dim, where shadows play,
A knight without glory, lost in the fray.
A cloak of darkness veils his weary soul,
An anti-hero, where shadows take their toll.

He wields no sword of shining steel,
Yet battles unseen, his scars reveal.
Through murky alleys, his path is worn,
A survivor's dance, each relentless morn.

A heavy drinker, drowning the sorrow,
In the ale's embrace, he finds tomorrow.
The tavern's refuge, a sanctuary cold,
Where tales untold, in whispers are told.

No chalice of honor, just a mug stained,
In the echoing silence, his past remains.
A lone wolf prowling, the city's night,
A knight without glory, yet clutching to life.

In the dim-lit taverns, where shadows cling,
He fights not for kingdoms, but just to cling.
To the next dawn, in the abyss he roams,
A flawed savior, in the ale's amber domes.
© Folkland