My collection of writings--but wait there's more.
Candles lit the parameter of the hall and the hearth blazed with fiery delight. Tonight was the feasts of feast; Warriors, jarls, thanes, and titled adventurers sat around the marble thrown of the King. Every plate was set, every mug was filled, and donned the ancient armor and lute was a battle-scarred shieldmaiden.
She stood at the furthest end of the King's table, alone but with poise. All the souls silenced their mouths, except for the occasional cough from the nipping frost in their lungs. Silent was the hall as they watched the shieldmaiden.
Her calloused fingers pressed the six strings in rhythm and switched tonality in flawless skill. The tune echoed in the hall catching the hearts of many, she sang,
"On a winter's night across the Moors,
Ov'r hills,
Ov'r yews,
a bloodied knight sang her tune
bound to lose,
Deathly wounds.
Darken blue wings of the night.
Morrigan's servant of her kind.
Among her,
Sang her,
across the wintered Moors.
On red hair of Autumn's leaves tangled a woven crown.
Blue eyes of Nordic seas searched for her only sound.
A married finger,
a missing lover.
Perched apon the widow's seat,
blood on its sickled beak.
Black wings of death unraveling,
sang her only sound.
On a winter's night across the Moors.
Ov'r hills,
Ov'r yews,
A woven crown laid to rest
Among her,
sang her."
The shieldmaiden paused her play, her eyes drifted to the burning hearth. In eternal pain and passion traced across her lips,
"My love."
I was only five years old
when I saw you standing in the kitchen.
Knife in your left hand slicing away
But pain is never skin deep.
I'm afraid...
I was only eleven years old
When I came home from school
Black and blue, humiliated.
You stood there, as stated, "Suicide? You're selfish. Do you want me to take you to an orphanage? Yeah, cry you little baby."
I was only sixteen years old
sorting through my junk.
The house echoing your rage
Your hand flying across my face.
Kicks to my shins will teach me to behave.
I was only eighteen years old
when I walked across the stage.
Teachers glaring, peers laughing
And amongst the crowd, strangers because you stayed at home.
I am twenty three years old now.
Getting bitched out or slaving my life away.
You insult me without provocation.
I pay bills so we can stay, but my life's like an animation.
Along my skin ridges and new scars.
I will never get away, not until my light fades to dark.
"The clock hands spinning
time unwound from linear.
Parallels future and past,
all in the image of mind.
I see into the abyss
of pain and abuse.
What was done, I waited.
Replayed over and over again:
Drugged and imprisoned,
deathly threats in sorrow.
Until, a kindred spirit
saw a mirrored reflection.
Her words woke me
opening eyes to heaven.
I couldn't dare speak to tell
writing ominous letters
to her in poetry.
I remember my works.
The way I'd bleed over
things I felt.
Her light broke through and
I fell like a tower.
Walls crumbled beneath
exposed bare and raw.
As I felt what was missing,
then she looked at me."
It's been a long time since I wrote to you.
Words I couldn't craft without you, my muse.
When I contemplate the meaning of things,
You are the one like a spring.
Water flowing endlessly as thoughts in my brain.
I couldn't speak.
Every morning and passing day,
I dream and I'd pray.
That somehow through the darkest times,
You'd envelope into the purest light.
Married my thoughts and my heart,
Two of the things no matter how far,
I see the smile in your eyes.
So it shall be in this life,
even though the fire stings,
you'll find reasons to sing.
The sun fell out of the sky.
Fear creeping around every corner.
What's to become of you?
My mind never stop pacing.
She deserve better than this, I believe.
But stupid me wouldn't listen.
Tongues twisted and hatred grew.
Ending inevitably, lost at sea.
I keep dreaming for the day
When everything's okay.
Meanwhile, she suffers.
Silently screaming for peace.
My hope never dying.
It will come.
Whilst I march on,
A creep and a slave.
She's gentile like the way new fallen snow would lay.
Purity in brokenness, as the ice crystals sway.
Light from the soul reflect and refract,
turning colors into kaleidoscopic escape.
Winter storms brew as they may,
Gales bringing punishing frost,
But one thing's for certain:
There she's among the stars, cast your eyes towards endearing light-- And the darkest night fades.
On black wings of change
held many mysteries.
Colors dug so deep
All the secrets I keep.
Dripping from the raven
your pain, fear and heaven.
Stories never told,
Held in a love so bold.
All the secrets I keep
fly on my black wings.
She stood at the furthest end of the King's table, alone but with poise. All the souls silenced their mouths, except for the occasional cough from the nipping frost in their lungs. Silent was the hall as they watched the shieldmaiden.
Her calloused fingers pressed the six strings in rhythm and switched tonality in flawless skill. The tune echoed in the hall catching the hearts of many, she sang,
"On a winter's night across the Moors,
Ov'r hills,
Ov'r yews,
a bloodied knight sang her tune
bound to lose,
Deathly wounds.
Darken blue wings of the night.
Morrigan's servant of her kind.
Among her,
Sang her,
across the wintered Moors.
On red hair of Autumn's leaves tangled a woven crown.
Blue eyes of Nordic seas searched for her only sound.
A married finger,
a missing lover.
Perched apon the widow's seat,
blood on its sickled beak.
Black wings of death unraveling,
sang her only sound.
On a winter's night across the Moors.
Ov'r hills,
Ov'r yews,
A woven crown laid to rest
Among her,
sang her."
The shieldmaiden paused her play, her eyes drifted to the burning hearth. In eternal pain and passion traced across her lips,
"My love."
I was only five years old
when I saw you standing in the kitchen.
Knife in your left hand slicing away
But pain is never skin deep.
I'm afraid...
I was only eleven years old
When I came home from school
Black and blue, humiliated.
You stood there, as stated, "Suicide? You're selfish. Do you want me to take you to an orphanage? Yeah, cry you little baby."
I was only sixteen years old
sorting through my junk.
The house echoing your rage
Your hand flying across my face.
Kicks to my shins will teach me to behave.
I was only eighteen years old
when I walked across the stage.
Teachers glaring, peers laughing
And amongst the crowd, strangers because you stayed at home.
I am twenty three years old now.
Getting bitched out or slaving my life away.
You insult me without provocation.
I pay bills so we can stay, but my life's like an animation.
Along my skin ridges and new scars.
I will never get away, not until my light fades to dark.
"The clock hands spinning
time unwound from linear.
Parallels future and past,
all in the image of mind.
I see into the abyss
of pain and abuse.
What was done, I waited.
Replayed over and over again:
Drugged and imprisoned,
deathly threats in sorrow.
Until, a kindred spirit
saw a mirrored reflection.
Her words woke me
opening eyes to heaven.
I couldn't dare speak to tell
writing ominous letters
to her in poetry.
I remember my works.
The way I'd bleed over
things I felt.
Her light broke through and
I fell like a tower.
Walls crumbled beneath
exposed bare and raw.
As I felt what was missing,
then she looked at me."
It's been a long time since I wrote to you.
Words I couldn't craft without you, my muse.
When I contemplate the meaning of things,
You are the one like a spring.
Water flowing endlessly as thoughts in my brain.
I couldn't speak.
Every morning and passing day,
I dream and I'd pray.
That somehow through the darkest times,
You'd envelope into the purest light.
Married my thoughts and my heart,
Two of the things no matter how far,
I see the smile in your eyes.
So it shall be in this life,
even though the fire stings,
you'll find reasons to sing.
The sun fell out of the sky.
Fear creeping around every corner.
What's to become of you?
My mind never stop pacing.
She deserve better than this, I believe.
But stupid me wouldn't listen.
Tongues twisted and hatred grew.
Ending inevitably, lost at sea.
I keep dreaming for the day
When everything's okay.
Meanwhile, she suffers.
Silently screaming for peace.
My hope never dying.
It will come.
Whilst I march on,
A creep and a slave.
She's gentile like the way new fallen snow would lay.
Purity in brokenness, as the ice crystals sway.
Light from the soul reflect and refract,
turning colors into kaleidoscopic escape.
Winter storms brew as they may,
Gales bringing punishing frost,
But one thing's for certain:
There she's among the stars, cast your eyes towards endearing light-- And the darkest night fades.
On black wings of change
held many mysteries.
Colors dug so deep
All the secrets I keep.
Dripping from the raven
your pain, fear and heaven.
Stories never told,
Held in a love so bold.
All the secrets I keep
fly on my black wings.
