Broken Maiden

Cover made by desiired.

Twas April when it happened.
My mind had went rapid.
My body frozen from horror,
For before me was a slaughter.
My senses blighted by the weather.
The heavens shared my anguish,
Bellowing their cries once bound by an unbreakable tether.
The frightened willows wet with tears and broken wishes.
O'er the dead roses before my place,
I saw a creature plagued without a face.

Twas uncanny, maddening to my mind!
It's blade drooling rosey scarlet!
It's long hair hanging in ravaged strands.
It's long limbs frail and flesh stale like life gave it no kind!
It's figure bruised and clothes torn like someone treated it like a harlot.
Beaten and mangled like the body below which it stands.

I was frozen at the sight.
Witnessed as the creature fell to it's knees like it's heart was stricken with a blight.
It's guilt lingered in the air like a scent.
Like it wondered what it's action had meant.
It's mind torn like mine,
Wondering if this was a plan of the divine.

Agony gripped the blade within the creature's hand,
It's head turning to face me.
My breath caught for I knew I was damned!
Like a deer trapped in headlights I could not flee!
The creature held out it's bloodied left hand with caution,
Not wishing to scare the bewildered that was I.
The crimson fluids piled together as if bound by magic to form a scarlet rose blossom.
The creature clutched the flower to it's beasts with the need to cry.

Like a mirror the creature's figure shattered.
The rose fell to the ground, both it and the world around me disappearing into black nothing.
My sight blind but my ears open to the sound a lone crow's chatter.
As if opening my eyes to the morn, I was welcome to a sight most stunning!

A dress of onyx black and silken flower pedals,
Ruffled and framed upon a body pale and as soft skinned as satin,
The maiden's sandy blonde hair long and glossy enough to smitten even the devil.
She stood in a garden stripped of color.
The blooming roses pale white and unscathed,
Their leaves browned with a bronze luster.
The the garden was dead and scathed.

The Maiden held a snow white rose in both hands.
Pure and supple like herself.
Slowly with grace, she turned to face me and smiled like a mother would her child.
But I was sickened by the sight, not by her, but the black brands.
Her soft pale figure as elegant as an elf,
Like the garden, was defiled.

A man's hate strained shouting called from afar.
The Maiden stood unfazed,
But a crow was not. It flew with the sounds of an echo,
Flying at the Maiden and shattering itself into her face like glass to leave her jaw ajar
The impact left the Maiden dazed.
Her figure faltering to the dead grass like a fallen doe.

Anguish filled the garden like an omen,
I could feel the agony just then.
A love like glass,
Shattering the heart of a poor lass.
The white rose the Maiden had held fell
And blotched with blood in a world morphing into hell.
More crows swarmed the recovering Maiden.
All echoing with words long since forsaken.

They all attacked her.
Their caws shouting cruel words that left so many feelings astir.
They clawed and pecked, cawed and swept around the Maiden.
She cried and screamed, begging them to stop.
I wanted to help her, save her from this madness that made the peace drop.
But I was bound by an unseen force.
Forcing my anguished eyes to watch this run it's coarse.

Remorse, depression, and oppression battered the young Maiden.
Her cries hadn't the strength to change the crows' hearts.
Every scratch, every punch stained the fallen rose,
Specks of blood scarring it's innocence and leaving it with many woes.
It wasn't long before she was broken.
She couldn't take the suffering no longer, for her will now had spoken.
A blade with a toothy grinned edge appeared in the Maiden's hand.
She cried out with a forceful demand.
No crow headed her command.

The Maiden choked on a sob,
Clenching the blade's handle as if it were a doorknob.
She closed her eyes and swiped the blade blindly,
Cutting the throat of a crow and destroying it's design.
For it had fallen to the withered grass,
It's body changing before the lass.
It had turned a into a man as the other crows had fled.
From his neck he had bled,

He was a mildly attractive male with raven hair,
Clothed in ragged noblemen's clothes with several tears.
The Maiden watched as his chocolate eyes became hollow.
His muscled figure turning limp for now it was Death his soul must follow.

The Maiden stumbled back,
Voices hanging above us like clouds.
She looked to her dress to see it was stained scarlet, not black.
She clung to the knife, the voices now becoming loud.

And now I knew her story.
The pain told it all in such morbid glory.
She had taken a life,
To be freed from such a strife.
An innocence snow white and pure,
Now blood red and stricken for this pain to be cured.
She saw a monster in the mirror,
An obscure creature with regret crystal clear.

Even in death her spirit sought closure.
For the love she held never came closer.
Why she sought me I held no clue.
But I shall not let her heavenly light remain blue.

"Your flower is red with your fiery pain,
But no rose held such grace in the rain.
None like you,
For the monster you see is not true.
Your pain stood vibrant among the spring flowers
And no fairy could hold such beautiful black wings like yours."

My words held true.
For the image had flew.
Now remains the one and only Broken Maiden.