Author's Note: Not what it seems...see if you can figure it out...

Cold stone floors press on my feet
All I can smell is pit-roasted meat
A hard wooden chair is my seat
Ale touches my lips, made from wheat

I watch the wind blow through my hair
into the wind, like God has no care
To live forever at heart has no fare
The weight of the world is hard to bear

Fresh green grass pillows my head
Stars my blanket, dirt my bed
I'm a human, my blood is red
I'm stuck in the past, Arthur's not dead!

Swords clang, as their wielders fight
The ruins of this castle speak to the night
I hear sadness sob, I know it's right
This empty throne of kings is a sorry sight

This was always my worst fear
To walk into my home, no one is here
Paintings are gone, no monks to leer
As sunlight shines on my face, my senses veer...
Guenevere! Guenevere!

A white light shines bright, a voice calls
Water drips from the ceiling, and falls
A great rumbling like the rolling of balls
And the light jumps and then stalls

"Home, come home! Everyone's dead."
Says a voice I know, my feet float even with my head
Wounds I have had, will now have bled
Now I understand, I, Guenevere...am dead.