Coma
by Nathan Marchand

I lie upon a deathbed,
My life-thread pulled taut against
The edge of the Fates’ knife.
Scorned by the hellcats and scoundrels
Who beat me and left me to die,
I cling to life thanks only to
The brave and persecuted few
Who still love me.                   
I am Chivalry,
And I am not dead, but asleep.