Why put hate to a soul,
carving for love—
pushing the edge of a thorn,
when a sword becomes power.
The heart is my sword,
The soul is my thorn.
A game of fixation,
a designated obsession,
a fascinated possession.
A game of thrones,
built for my love—
to rise to the heavens,
and fall to the abyss.
Forever mine,
a heart to grow.
Even a warrior builds love
through battles, through bloodshed.
Reuniting harmony,
sacrificing peace—
fortunes for life.
A knight’s love is sheltered,
protecting his beloved
from his own fumes and fire,
from his beast and terror,
even from his blood.
Making her crowned
with his endured jewel,
indeed his precious gem.
Now he looks at her portrait,
wondering why she left
this foolish heart.
He still lives days and nights
at their fortress,
living in those memoirs.
She left a mind who could know,
understand her—
only to know she saw
a hidden gem in man’s eye,
not knowing how precious
the love the knight gave out
in glamorous pleasure.
He smiled thinking
how he protected her
from her nightmares,
how he sheltered her.
He hoped for a man better for her.
Through his teary eyes
and forceful demise,
“Was she worth it?”
he asked through his shoulders,
in dismissal.
His pen indeed became an angel,
brought chaos to destiny,
reuniting words with truth,
imagination as a fantasized reality,
and blemished dystrophy
Great content! Keep up the good work!