The story of the lioness: Of the elusive, unwavering might I once
possessed. Memorialized I lie, nothing more nothing less, than a
mere sculpture carved in stone, a solitary figure who died alone.
I am to remind history of the cost of war; hear my story as I cry, a
reminder of corruption, of the men who lay dead because of lies.
Dreary as the wavering as the wavering at night,
I am engulfed by shadowed figures called disquiet.
They are draped in capes of regret,
Dancing around my final barricade between life and death.
And at the breaking of dawn,
I am fearful for the judgment of my crimes,
From the fateful battle cries;
For now guilt is my shadow, we are mangled as one;
And in this abysmal sight,
Frigid and cold, my hands have grown LIGHT
In the dying days of war,
I find your aegis is placed upon my chest,
Arrows and spears pierced beneath my hair,
Sweetly caressed.
But what have we become?
When love for one another has gone and left.
It has soured and soiled,
And now not even arrows from Eros can mend this civil unrest
Mend these seeds of poison.
The calamity of war,
For I was blind, when you struck first;
When you aimed at the soft white underbelly.
Now, our kingdoms drip with the metallic taste of deceit
Only to fall forth suffering at the hands of our brothers;
Only to draw crimson droplets of hate,
Only for contempt to pool at the mouths of our enemies,
And all this to say,
The tragedy of war is the loss of trust…
I was the sightless beast you chose to corrupt,
And in this losing hunt,
I will now face the hollow earth and be nothing more than dust.
History, if not dust, a distant memory.
Of the wars waged against naivety,
Man versus the innocent,
For you have fed and consumed upon me.
And as shit rots upon the earth,
The maggots feed upon our destruction.
And so, in my dying disquiet,
I am languid and lamentful.
Here I secede,
A mighty lioness,
Fooled by a man named
benevolence.
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