Chivalric stinging emotion

His blood,
Is or must,
Be good.

His name,
Tells me so,
But does it,

Can a name,
Not match,
The skin,
It lives in?

I can not tell,
If he is as,
His legacy,
By birth.

If he does own,
The sainted words,
When he holds the crown,
It merely labels...

This worker of the lands,
I feel it on the inside,
Of his warm hands,

He is not a figurehead,
He just figured ahead.

I feel like my soul had known you lives before.
When I can not tell why.
Strange how these things haunt my mind.
If even there is an answer to find.

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