King's sword held high,
Warriors about to die.
Horses at the head,
Knights already dead.
Electricity running through the air,
Burning like a golden flair.
Rows of thoughtless minds,
Creatures of all kinds.
Timeless tales are told of this,
A battle we dare not miss.
Arrows spinning as they fly,
People with only tears to cry.
No hope for this land;
Destroyed by a King's hand.
An eagle flies above the fight,
An ancient symbol of might.
They charged on in,
Imagine how it must have been.
Staring Death in the face,
And rushing on as if in race.
Death claimed many,
Could he have left any?
Hope started to fade,
In the growing shade.
But still one fought without battle cry,
A childish girl refusing to die.
She continued to fight on alone,
With a foundation carved of stone.
She alone fought to stay,
As autumn slowly faded away.
Such a proud and distant face,
In a filthy warring place.
Radiant smile upon her face,
Only matched by unbound grace.
Slaying with her left hand,
In a harsh and hostile land.
Right hand behind her back,
With such a strength that did not lack.
Raven hair flying about,
And hazel eyes without a doubt.
She finished the battle by herself,
A single girl in bountiful health.
It did not matter if it was over sea;
She would fight and kill for me...
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