Fire and ice
A battle. Fought tooth for tooth.
A truce held.
But still holds no truth.
A prisoner. Of pain and gore.
Of royal birth. But imprisoned by woe.
Satisfaction.a dire necessity,
Of the cruel and crude
The jury. She decides.
Her majesty .So sedately revived.
Beauty. So invigorating.
Ravaged. And so very beaten.
Presumptuously, we surround and capture
Her copious territory,
In all its glory, almost divine.
Killing, mass murdering, and stabbing her.
Asphyxiated. She struggles to survive.
Serendipity .Such a marvelous delicacy.
So rare. And undefined.
Exquisitely .so gracefully.
She leads her mate. Amour in hand,
As she dances so playfully with venomous destiny.
A battle of blood, wit and more.
Tired, she wakes. Tired, she soars.
Through the sea of hate, malevolence and pain,
Through the bloody field,
Walking through hordes of heads, feet and stacked bones.
Nature, as violent as she may seem,
Neutral, loving...breathing pure felicity.
Ragged, and broken, torn and distraught,
With fervor she retreats,
And with fervor, shall she retort.
Amanda M Miller