Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2015
She stands the one that runs from reality,
From its open brutality,
She fell back to the delusions of legendary,
To the tales of gods, demons, and speaking weaponry.

To the others, this is all there is to find,
A mad woman, with half a mind.

To the man at her side, there was more to see,
Her eyes as clear as the raging sea.

You owe me the world, she would accuse,
Her words never once found a thoughtful muse,
Before they flew into the air,
Twisting and winding as a snare.
No one could recall, to this day,
What she had once forgotten to say.

You owe me the world, she would assure,
The question of her past, a tempting lure,
Never would it be told, she promised,
For it is beyond my fading knowledge.
No one could guess, to this day,
Her story untold, and she rather liked it this way.

You owe me the world, she would add,
Her hair oddly clad,
Twisted and wound with the braids of a child,
With every movement, the jewels woven within smiled.
No one imagined, to this day,
Why white decorated her young head, and this way, it would stay.

You owe me the world, she reminds,
Her thoughts the most figetting of minds,
Eyes ever watching,
Her guard ever plotting,
Hunting or fleeing, who was to know?
Even to him, such was never to be made a show.

The man, aware of his ignorance,
Stood his ground, and demanded the many answer’s appearance,
For I, he had claimed,
Have stood by you always, asked no questions, he proclaimed.
Answer me now, everything that you have hid,
Without pause or lid.

I am owed such things, he continued direly,
For I have loved you always and entirely.

If you have ever felt this love’s return,
Answer me now, or to you, my back will forever turn.

Turn from me, then, she had thrown,
I have never known you to wail and moan!
If by my side you have stood,
For answers, no one else could,
Then return to me never again,
You traitorous, wretched man!

After the man was good and gone,
The woman numbly whispered some old song,
Its lyrics worn and old,
Quiet upon a voice once so bold.

You owe me the world, she sang with a voice of fine,
Because, you stole mine.
Madness Viarti
Written by
Madness Viarti  Asgard
(Asgard)   
506
     ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems