He sheathed his tongue long ago.
He did this because he knows
that the fool is made so by words
and if none can be heard than no
titles are given.

He will draw his sword and
carve his thoughts like slashes
into our heads like boards.
He will shoot glares like arrows
that sink deep into marrow
planting his own ideas into
our bones.

He will fight conversation
the way he would a dragon.
Putting all of his will and
might into stabbing words like
limbs until they all bow down
to him.

In all honesty, the silent knight
can sing, he can bring peace and
melody into war torn fields and
wield song into battle.

He can, but he wont.
All because of laughter that
hes afraid to hear if his melodies
Don't reach or come near the ears
Of someone who's willing
To hear the truths,
Behind each of his
Tears