🔵 By Christopher S. De Roberts. Photo by lauragrafie.
He is known as the lonely archer
As he slowly nocks his arrow
In his heart there is no sorrow
He prepares the arrow for departure
When he’s ready he steadies his bow
And he draws the string so very slow
In his eyes he acquires his target
And in his mind he’s already locked it
With the draw of his string
You will feel his sting
Like the devils burning dart
There’s no stopping a piercing heart
As the arrow travels through the air
So fast, there’s no time to spare
It takes a life without a care
All his life he’s been taught
Many times he has fought
Try as he may, he can’t fight the urge
Every so often he has to purge
He cannot stop from what’s within
And the archer is lonely once again