a knight’s tale

It only takes a second -

an agreement made by
a fool, of fools in folly
the pressure of the collective
a decision in haste
make way, make way,
suit me, boot me,
doesn't it suit me?

and a second more, fulfil those delusions of grandeur!

His armour shines in the midday light.
A vision, a star, gracing God's earth,
shield your eyes, so bright.

Deflections reflecting off panes of steel as peers jeer,
cheer,
adhere
within the confines of alcohol induced lunacy.

He believes he's a knight,
believes he's a king,
believes he's a champion of champions!

and atop his mount, how can he be wrong?
He can be something, everything, anything
to somebody, everybody, anybody.

but wait, it only takes a second -

a moment, a tumble,

a knight’s tale

and the world, his world, has dissolved into sand and dust,

and they cheer and they jeer and it's oh so funny,

this fool, this fool in folly, this king of kings,
is reminded, as he falters beneath the midday sun,

that bravery that hides beneath the suds of a bottle,
is cowardice in the disguise of comrades
who push,
and push,
but want no part in the fall.

And all that you've won is the realisation
that to be something
anything
everything

means nothing when you're no longer somebody
to anybody,
the joke to everybody -

and as you career to the ground,
crestfallen, armour broken,
docile under the weight of a writhing stallion,

that all you have left and all that you have become
is nobody.