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The Girl At The Forest’s Edge

 

Towards the creeping darkness at the forest’s edge,
There lives a girl, who never speaks the language of men
Disillusioned with the ideals of happiness, and of love,
She waits for better days, though she knows they won’t come

She smiles and waits for the Angels to smile at her, in turn
For the Lord to take her in His cradle, and to rock her gently asleep
To sing a lullaby, gentle, soft and sweet
For the darkness at the edge forever threatens to creep

If the vilifying darkness was merely at the edge,
Perhaps the masons would build a wall to keep it away,
Or mayhaps she would light a fire every night,
And pray hope the sun came out before the embers died.

All the wise folk of the village know this though,
The darkness at the edge is but a lie,
Fooling people into thinking, it’s biding its time,
For the darkness takes root, firmly, in the hearts of men

What hope is there of finding love, in such a harrowed place?
All anyone ever loved more than love is now all but dead
It’s vexing screams she hears in every gust of the wind,
The creaks of the old house amplified, the demons are done biding their time

One day they’ll come out and join us too,
Though they won’t do anything men don’t already do,
Somewhere a Knight sits, growing old in his armor’s gleam
The war that was lost before it could even begin

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