• It started on an ordinary day,
    with the sky and clouds all white and grey.
    They stood and stared,
    with looks of hate that would at your heart tear.

    Their eyes were glazed and hard to see,
    but I knew that they were focused on me.
    Their eyes were narrowed with suspicion,
    and their minds diviated from their mission.

    Their gazes hard and undisernable,
    their swords clasped and quite capable.
    Their armor scatched and dented with wear,
    showed they killed without a care.

    Their horses stirred with fear and anger,
    as they turned and twisted at the sight of this stranger.
    The horses were large as a giant's steed,
    bred to carry gold to satisfy man's greed.

    I turned to acknowledge their presence,
    but stared as if they were no more than pheasants.
    My gaze was colder than a starless winter's night,
    and as dark as the bold, black armor of the knights.

    I cared not of their purpose there,
    and I continued on without a care.
    I turned away and did not see,
    the sword of the watchers; bright and shiny.

    They came down the hill in a thunder of hooves,
    leaving marks in the hill called grooves.
    Their yells of death could not be heard,
    over the shrill call of the bird.

    My mind went blank with fear,
    as I saw my death all too near.
    I did not run nor beg for my life,
    but decided to fight with a single knife.

    Victory I could not see,
    but I knew that Death rode with me.
    I failed to keep what was rightfully mine,
    and sank into a death so simply divine.

    So as you picture a place like this,
    and shutter as you feel Death's kiss,
    remember not the world of lies,
    as you stare into those Silent Eyes.