Peter

It was not meant to be like this, this fear,
Watching him from a distance go to die,
I was meant to save him, that much was clear,
Not cower at servant-girls and just lie.
We all fled. After all our bloated boasts,
That we would fight for him, we go do that,
The blazing memory my conscience roasts,
Hopes of heroism had fallen flat.
He warned me that I would run from him,
When the time came, that we would all scatter,
I was too proud, my eyes to see to dim,
To know that my daydreams would not matter.
A cock now crowing shrill, a piercing knife,
To save my skin I sold the Prince of Life.

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