Cinder Shrouds

Under tall trees and cinder shrouds
A brave man walks, prideful and loud.

He knows these paths, knows it well
the path he walks, where dark things dwell.

An eternal vow, to use his might
to drive back the beasts, to be the knight.

His weathered sword, his gleaming bride
the creature's foul touch it will not abide.

It shines like fire, cuts with pride
to defend the man, who knows he'll die.

Beast after beast, they swarm like rats
with teeth and eyes, so sharp so fast.

All while a cloaked man laughs
watching the man breath his last.

With long gaunt arms, he pulls him near
so his new toy can hear him clear.

Whispered words, a soulless cry
the felled man's eyes are opened wide.

He stumbles and writhes
to the tall man now bound.

Under tall trees and cinder shrouds
A restless spirit makes no sound.