From The Lab

The Threat

It's face is dark, the eyes are deep
Red, glowing like two distant suns,
Doomed to burn out before their time,
For shining too bright for too long,
Leering from behind its ancient
Iron helmet, stained a dark brown
From the dried blood of old wars past;
Shrouded in shadows made darker
For having lain on this twisted
New form of warrior's evil.
The intimidating weapon
Remains sheathed, holding its deadly
Secrets for the next opponent,
Although its very appearance
Proves the creature's intent enough.
The gauntlets and chain mail armor,
Gleaming in the absence of light,
Stand chipped, tarnished, and battle-worn.
Its steed, covered from nose to tail
In plated, blue-gray engraved steel,
Walks alongside his black-hearted
Master with nary a light snort.
Patiently, both rider and mount
Stop, stare, and wait confidently.
But if not for me, then for whom?