I have a story to tell,

One unpleasant but well.

A story of chivalry,

I should tell on the way to Canterbury.

As you know I follow a code of honor.

Some of you may ponder,

As to why I am the way I am.

It is because of a saving lamb.

Without this lamb we all would be damned,

Because we were scammed.

Evil is not the way,

It will cause you to sway.

Nothing comes from envy,

Because it makes you empty.

Two knights in Venice

One a deadly menace,

The other noble and true.

Younger hated him without a clue.

The oldest honorable to all,

A true knight on call.

The youngest lazy to a fault,

Girls and liquor he sought.

Never moving a muscle to fight,

Always ready for flight.

Dishonorable he was to everyone around.

No one made a sound.

Both getting called to war,

One miserable and poor.

The older modest and adored

Ready to serve their lord.

Riding into town they drew a crowd.

Everyone they bowed.

Taverns the younger sought.

The last time he entered a tavern he fought.

Out comes a drunken squire

With words that he felt were dire.

“You stupid knight.

Nothing about you is right.

You’ll never be as honorable as your brother.

Let’s all fight him, one after another.

Only one way to become honorable

You’re just stupid and barely tolerable.”

As the knight becomes distraught,

He tries to hurry out so he won’t get caught.

Trips and falls on the miller’s plate.

Scared to catch his fate.

Bruised he became

Without a lick of fame.

He goes back to his brother

Crying for his mother.

They travel along their way

To stop and sleep in some hay.

The younger ponders about his day.

He doesn’t know what to say.

Looking at his brother with contempt and rage.

It’s the feeling of being locked in a cage.

Wanting to get out of his brother’s image

He thinks to win a scrimmage.

There won’t be another scrimmage until next year.

He lets out a tiny tear.

“What are my other options?

I will commit this crime with passion.”

Stabbing the oldest in the back sounds fun.

Using a knife is the only way to get this done.

A sharp knife seems the best,

Even though it makes the younger stressed.

Slinking upon the modest knight

The knife fell and stabbed with all its might.

An evil shrill held in,

The knife didn’t stab who it should have been.

Walking away to bandage his liver,

He decides that next time he must deliver.

Sneaky as to not leave a print.

Poison seems to be the next stint.

He plans to make breakfast for his brother’s awaking,

So he put the poison in the making.

After receiving breakfast the modest knight takes a spill.

Spilling the food on the all over some daffodils.

Causing the plants to wither and die.

The younger slaps himself in the eye.

I guess envy is never the way.

It’s best to keep the crazy at bay.

No longer does the evil try to kill the good,

He will always be misunderstood.