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She smiles at me; it’s a small, sad sort of smile.
She’s remembering the way things were.
But she can’t forget the way they are now.

I want to hold her, but I know she’ll push me away.
I want to be her white knight, her perfect man.
That’s how I feel inside.

Everything I’ve done has been for her.
I only wanted to make her happy.
Did I try too hard?

I can’t stop trying now.
My sacrifice will make her life better.
I love her, but I mustn’t say it.
©2006-2009 ~AcetyleneBlack
:iconacetyleneblack:

Author's Comments

I wish she'd help me out of my armour.

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:iconrelletyrots:
Aw, emo but nice. The ending's really good -- but did you think of adding "I wish she'd help me out of my armour" to the poem? That'd be a nice "formal" addition to it.

--
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."
:iconacetyleneblack:
Thanks.

I didn't come up with the armour bit until when I came to submit the poem, so yeah... it was kinda already finished.

I also don't really think it quite fits the theme of the poem itself. It really is just an extra note, rather than a part of the poem.

--
For great justice!

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September 20, 2006
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