I met a man on horseback,
who said that he was right.
His armor shone like silver,
his horse was milky white.
So, I believed him.
He insisted up was down,
lectured that dark was light —
but his sword was so bejeweled,
his horse so clean and white!
(I was naïve, then.)
Soon, I learned his truths were lies,
his honor belied his spite.
His armor hid a bitter heart,
and that horse was prone to bite.
He had deceived me.
So, beware of heroes in the woods,
proud champions of the fight.
Hearts glistening like solid gold,
are often pure pyrite.
You can believe me.
© 2020 by Hannah Six
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