September 27, 2009 11:15am CST
Bitter pills swallowed down. As the sun Glistens down upon the headless crown. Her spirit still strong, as the wind dries the forgotten tears only to carry them to the Warriors below. For there is nothing in her hand she can bestow. for comfort, for peace, for life, or love, security. Simply Faith is granted. Daggers pierce the skin, of the paleness from with in. As tears no longer form, her heart is gone, forlorn. As the battle horn sounds men rise destined bound. By honour, truth, faith, loyalty. Much like her, they see. The battle is not only to be free. Avenging those taken beyond the quiet realm. The war will begin, over, over, and, over again. As many will lay down their lives. With out vanity or pride. With simply the utterance of her lips. Leaving family not to die, but to live. The crown will disappear, just as her mate upon the thorns. Tears creating the storm. Her heart aches, bones break, death escapes. In the meadow, with silver and green encircling. Her Warrior true, upon which, tender touches will nay ensue. The lifeless body clinging to the grave of the Warrior of Such Great Size. The war begins, with a simple wail from her lips. A battle cry, while the sparrow flies, thorns puncture the skin, draining the Maiden as surely she nay will love again. In the distance there is a mighty roar. Rains Pour, her pain cuts the earth to the core. The crown now upon the head of one who can not feel. Her soul That of the assassin with the lust of blood meal. Her heart will never be claimed. For none will ever measure to what that Warrior could do. He accepted her as true.