The Crying Lute

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Title: THE CRYING LUTE

Author: Gannt


The lute in mine hands as I softly strum, cries for it knows the hollow man I have become, of my tragedy, of my sorrow, of my lonely despair.

Only my lute listens, alone, only it cares. Though I am a knight, and mine emotions I hide, I still feel the soul-eating darkness inside.

I am a man of armor and a man of the sword, but the blackness I feel I cannot ward.

The green swine came, silent coward attacks, with bow and arrow, with sword and axe.

They came for our blood, for our flesh to eat, We hacked them to death, our blades flaying their meat.

Though I have loved her, she still left this life, her pale white skin pierced by a goblin's bloody knife.

But I am left here, an empty shell of a man. I cannot speak, the sorrow is more than I can stand.

Others drink themselves blind, but I cannot partake The others celebrate, but smiles I can't fake.

I will sit here by the fire and softly strum, only my lute knows the hollow man I have finally become.

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