She repeats it every night
withering while waiting for her knight,

“A man with great arms to bare
A man with skin that is fair,
A man whose eyes are always bloom
in the night,
A heart so big and rare,
oh how does someone compare,
hear me now take flight,
come what is right”

Yet she withers slowly,
in between two worlds still lonely,
Death beckcons her to come willingly
leaving the current world, forgivenly,

She repeats once again,
Withering away in such monstorous pain,

“A man gave no hand to bare
A man gave no chance of ever being fair,
A man whose evil eyes mistook,
A heart so pure and right,
he misunderstood,
oh he could never compare
hear me now, take flight,
I realised, I am my own knight”



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