The Knight's Fury

Fury is not unknown to me.

It manifests in times of crisis

and I find it’s far

and few between

the times it’s actually seen.

When someone’s died

or hurt

or wronged

it won’t be long

before this knight's on guard.

Don my devil horns

and angel’s armour,

for I’ve sworn

I won’t be calmer

until the threat is barred

and banished from our realm.

A child before a dragon.

A friend before a foe.

A lover before themselves.

So be it.

I land the final blow.

I live to serve by instinct.

No need for the castle

nor the hassle

or for you to be distinct

about the things I’ve done.

As long as you are safe,

then I have won.

But when the knight’s alone,

at home

no visible threat at hand,

I’m unable to resist.

When, for unknown reason

the fury still persists.

No outlet.

No villain to berate

No evil to condemn to fate.

Just a wall

of unrelated words

from nobles in their castles

and no sort of hassle

with them.

It’s where I want to be

is with them.

Staring down from the parapet

How can I be like them?

Claustrophobia talking.

I can’t bear to replace them.

Knuckles bruised from punching walls.

I just want to be near them!

Desperately holding back my hands.

Connected by a string.

The strands 

that swing them 

jerk them back and forth,

from pills within the drawer

to the needle of the shelf.

They seek to destroy myself.

I feel

the fury setting in,

and I think I finally see

where the threat 

seems to be.

And it hits me.

A wave of denial.

For a while

all I can do

is scream.

Scratch.

No tact.

Punch the walls.

Think about anything else,

so I don’t admit the fact

it’s useless

to fight back.

I couldn’t see before

but someone has been wronged.

Someone has been hurt.

Someone here has died

and the funeral’s been prolonged.

I’m not the knight.

The knight is gone.

I’m the ghost,

unable to move on.

The one who happened

to come upon

their armour.

No intention there to harm the

body stuck inside.

I just want to hide.

Struggling to stay

in possession

as the instability

breeds aggression.

Because even one expression

of the truth

would be

the end

of what I thought was me.