Poetry
The Crimson Rider
The Crimson Rider

A rider one rides on through the night
this rider is indeed quite a plight
the moon lit night shows the way
of where the rider goes astray
crimson rider I do beseech thee
my life do not take from away me
your galant blade looks crimson
of blood, It surely hath done not
good, At what point hath you
chosen this antagonizing,
the moon lit night is cold,
though I feel mercury rising
you stab your sword right through
my heart, now my own crimson
ride will start, the last thing
that I do see, is you scowling
adove me, I go calmly into the light,
I wake up from my slumber, alas
there was no need for fright.
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