Charm On Dices

Once upon a time,
In a far away kingdom,
Stood a man who's poem didn't do much for rhyme,
But he knew how to stand in line with his friends with drums.
His rhythm caught the hearts of the ladies,
But sometimes his looks drove them away,
He thought he lacked so much charm,
Until one lucky day...
The feast came about,
So lavishly and unaware,
This angel of silent beauty was such a sprout,
Oh, but she knew how to cast deadly air.
The artist knew none a women with such a personality,
So he walks up to her as the flags and ribbons twirl,
Her eyes stared the poor poet down with such insanity,
And it almost, and completely, destroyed his world.
"I should fear not!"
He said to himself,
For his friends gave him advice and he sought,
For the mystery of the beauty of the spiteful elf.
A stance done,
With no scarce strategy given,
For he knew she could be the one,
But again, because of his damn charm, she was driven.
Repetitively, over and over again, the artist mopes of his down-trodden charm,
Sadly, he knew again, because everyone else had a regular arm.
From his tragedies, no one understood
About the artist's arm that was made of wood.