Maiden of the Battle

On the battlefield fights a maiden so fair. With her blood soaked golden hair. She fights for the right to be free. To live her life as she wants it to be. With sword and spear. She boldly fights without fear. Men fall at her feet Their blood soaks the young wheat. She cuts and jabs many have died at her hands. They don’t know her name or where from she came. She is the vision of an angel. But her price is death. Her reward is your life in her hands. Then she kills you so your blood floods the land. But one who sees her through the haze. Has no remorse if he has to kill. She is just another warrior she will bleed. He rides towards her on his black steed. She ducks her head and moves to the side. And with one swift move removes his head He lies there now hes the one dead. There comes a time when too much blood has been spilt. It covers her sword from the blade to the hilt. She looks round at all the dying. The screams the cries. The clash of steel. The scene has become a nightmare.  So Frighteningly surreal. The time came when her life had to end. In the darkness a small light glows. In the distance the faces of slain men. They greet her as friends and she learns This is what life is. it has no end.