You wore the sun, daisies and the stars like the suit of armour.
Just like King Arthur did, but you always found that it weighed you down, that your kindness was always taken for weakness and that alone had caused chinks that you were stabbed through by cold stainless steel swords were stained with everything but your blood and flesh; you were alive but never truly living, brought love and and joy but strayed away from it because like the rabbits that you’d rescued because they’d always run away first.
The only thing you’re armed with is a shield, because even though you found excalibur you’d never pull it because you never worthy and excused yourself, thinking that the sword would be too heavy to lift by your noodle arms.
But what you never understood is when you raised your shield what was standing on the other side weren’t archers or dragons that wanted to kill but a little boy with buck teeth and elephant ears wishing to meet his knight, to greet his hero with a mile wide smile and ask him to tell him stories of his adventures, but what he never understood was that you, the knight, were protecting the youth from yourself.
And you wonder why and how you had have become so blind, and then you remember that you were staring at the sun too long
that day had become an everlasting night but you could never see it because your retinas were too fried and your brown eyes burned black and your brain was too dumb to understand that.
But you did it on purpose, you hated your brown eyes because they could never be green and you hated yourself because you could never be like any one member of the league of exemplary gentlemen that sat at the round table. And that made you bitter.
But whatever happened to that little boy? Did he die somewhere when rods were being broken on his back, when his ‘friends’ got their dogs to chase him because he was afraid of them, did he die when he was forced to make new friends and relive as an outcast for years without end. or did he die when you told him to ignore all the chaos and misery that was unfolding around him because he so badly wanted to help and make a difference in the world and see it happy like he once was. I think he died when you told him he was good, and he realized that he wasn’t good enough, I think he died when you told him he was capable but he wasn’t capable enough, I think he died when you told him he was precious, and the world didn’t think that way.
All you said you wanted was sunlight and honesty but why do you consistently shut yourself in the dark when you search, and why do you lie to yourself consistently when you say you’ll slay the beast but you know it’ll just add more scratches on your armour. And what is it that you search for? The boy you once were?
But the biggest weakness? It is the one thing that disables you from flight and separates you from the rest, the mismatched pair of wings; the best of the best and the worst of the worse. Your inability to fly caused by the very organs of propulsion that are faulty.
My dear knight, wake up and see the day.