Unforgiving knight

He fights at fronts, he roughs through storms.
Another blade, another slash
wound him.
Impoverished cycles of life
lie strewn before his eyes.
The elixir drips from his lips
and sinks in throats of sand.
The streets are empty, the roads wish wear;
while curfew on samaritans stifles fresh air.
He begs not rogues for sinful grace:
for butchers alive on hired hell
can’t lend any shadow of life !
He battles odds full drenched in pain
and clads in robes of grit.
Today may be his nemesis..
tomorrow will be his steed !