On the field of the dead,
Where so many have bled,
A hand reaches out, for her face.

She's nowhere to be found,
So his hand clutches ground,
She sits, in another place.

In the following years,
She would weep many tears,
For her handsome, noble prince.

She wore black since that day,
And though many would pray,
She has took no lover since.

His face in her mind,
So loving, so kind,
Noone alive can compete.

She rues the day,
That he went to the fray,
Knowing it would be defeat.

'Why did he go,"
"And leave me alone?"
Ever the unaswered concern.

She would lie in her bed,
Refuse to be fed,
And all the while, she would yearn.

They could of run away,
And lived day by day,
Happily in each others arms.

But he chose this path,
This senseless bloodbath,
And spurned her wonderful charms.

So her heart turned black,
And her beauty did crack.
From without, and from within.

She was so full of spite,
Like a cancerous blight,
Her body, haggard and thin.

Finally life drank her up,
Like a mouth from a cup,
And she breathed and hated no more.

She opened her eyes,
Her man by her side,
Her heart, o how it soared.
SDuWarriorInf SDuWarriorInf
36-40, M
May 8, 2012