Exhausted yet I carry on, boots grind with each heavy step I take. I trudge through bones of fallen men, whose hearts I had to break.

Wings that used to carry me, now lay as a reminder on my back. Haunted by the ghosts of lovers, who once counted all I lack.

The wind whispers names of honorable men, who survived yet I left broken. Names not worthy of my poisoned lips, that have parted but not since spoken.

Beautiful in reflection, but color fails to hide. This heart of frost that beats within, that so long ago shattered inside.

They stand in line and follow me, yet I tell them with regret from the start. If this was a fairytale, I'd be that twisted witch without a heart.