Battles are fought in nights,
Where knights prefer to be might.
Showering the essence of their imaginary power,
They lie there with the fakeness of their bower.
Stronger do their will seem,
And blured their desires.
Shattering in their own dreams,
Lies their little miseries.
Beginning with their foolish theme,
They start laying their patch.
Paddling with their little beads,
They dream of chasing their match.
How hollow could those wishes seem,
Unknown to them how cruel has the realities been.
Shutting their mouths did their deeds lay,
Flying like a fish did their victories bay.
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