Betrayal (Shakespearean sonnet)

The host, says the field is clear

We wonder in fear, we are unwell,

Because the night draws near.

It’s time for war, little time for us to dwell.
Betrayer! traitor!

Our comrade, our danger,

A vicious vindicator.

Once a captain, now a stranger.
The host, our fellow,

With no knowledge of that, bagged with trust.

Our comrade, we follow,

A death battle we did not know will burst.
We were a fused prey to the host

A conjoined toast