He had not much
just a tinker and love in it.
He hoped it was enough
He gave all he had
She was worth all he was…
At least he figured so.
He was different
He thought she too.
He was a chivalry master
He cared not what they thought
Her happiness was his onus
he told her that much.
She had made him a jolly fellow
The victuals to his smile
She was his queen…
But now she was her pain.
Had he tried too much?
Maybe his too much was not
enough.
He nowcarried a bleeding tinker
It needed a soothing hand
Would he be a fool twice?
He was torn and shred
His ego had been preyed on
It hurt…
It pained…
He was crushed…
His tinker was downtrodden.
Devastation and depression
his sole companions.
He never asked for this
Not any or a bit.
But now he had it all…
and he wished he could walk
out…
the door to this pain seemed
locked.
He would linger for some while
Let the stinging seep…
A day was far not
He would walk out
A bleeding tinker as the
reminder…
Would he forget? He hoped not
courtesy of Storyzetu
