Artisan no more
your hands weren’t made to create
you waste every space their eyes are placed

Former Sir Gareth in the flesh
necrotic phantom to grief Lancelot
you degrade the sanctity of the art you create

Unrequited love
knights cross swords in combat only
you misdirect your point into my heart

Bloodletters enter into spells of bee
buzzing to pollinate in vain utero
you ungerminated seeds entice my revenge

Lord Mordred gives the order
put the traitor Bors the Younger under sword
lure light into corners to be extinguished