On the line

She is reminded of far away times,

of forests as far as any one has seen,

of english oak and sycamore

spiralling down she lands on her feet,

another outcast, come and feast upon me. she screams.

then out from the brush, four shadows, surrounded her,

handle to sheath she pulls the moon blade out,

one quick movement, two of them are down,

No scream, no blood, like shadows on string,

She wonders this as she parries an attack from the remaining shadows,

annoyed that they interrupted her trail of thought,

quickly striking them down too, he emerges from the trees behind her,

hahaha you fool, His eyes glow red,

beginning to extinguish her light,

like her brother all those years ago,

the vengeance she seeks,

in her grasp, which fuels the fire

they begin this battle,

she has to come out on top,

this fight's all in her head,

the people bow down,

to the queen who wears her crown,

full of mistakes that weigh heavy on her heart.

handed the cup of time, to be reminded,

of the loop we get to live in, filled with sorrow and love,

death and blood,

her guts eventually hanging on the washing line,

with maggots chewing through, living there best life.