She spoke softly as the wind brushed her hair The small blue orbs in her eyes quaked while in wait Her whole body spoke its emotions fair She continued to speak to avoid her fate. "Cruel Dark Knight, speak unto me and address my plight. I wish to breathe, I wish to see Take not my light, please do not make me fight. For you are a cruel thief, with whom none feel." The Knight only furrowed his brows with his hands on his raised crescent moon Her cries on dead ears fell with no time left so soon Only loud silence as her eyes looked to the falling crumpled rose petals Her soul communicated grief as the petals were caught in a black kettle A moonless night then veiled her senses, much against her will "My job is complete" said the knight with back turned As he swayed in walk, a jubilance overcame with his sick thrill For now none will be unwise to spurn Copyright J-P.G. Please critique and be brutally, yet politely, honest. I also wish to explain my rhyming pattern is ABAB with a little AABB between. There's also a few false rhymes in there. This is a symbolic poem for death. Why death? Because I was bored and couldn't come up with anything good. The Dark Knight is death itself in symbolic form. The crescent moon is his scythe. The rose petals ought to be a dead give-away. The black kettle is symbolic of the topsoil on the ground.