Midnight

Every Death Lord practiced a ‘fine art’ to help them unwind from the stress and pain of our lives. I liked poetry but I was never good at writing it. The events surrounding Silver Tears were pushing me off a mental edge though, and I needed an outlet.

She accepted the library book I brought her with honest joy which made me feel bad given that it was a poor gift. I knew I would have to do a great deal to improve the quality of her life and the life of her colt.

I sat down at my writing desk with a quill and parchment, and just let my thoughts run wild.

* * *

War was an Art.

A Science to be Studied.

A Historical Tome that you were living minute by minute.

Polished steel and heavy bronze.

Lances, Shields, Armor, Crossbows…

War was simple.

Kill or be killed.

Swords, like paintbrushes, spreading red on a field of green.

Black Clouds on a Blue Sky wash away the tragedy below.

The flowers cry red, mourning the losses on both sides, not knowing who they cry for.

The smell of blood never quite goes away…

The Stars judge us, while the Moon quietly observes.

For how you could not be judged for taking a life.

Are all our enemies bad creatures or are they just carrying the wrong flag.

Do they worship the wrong Gods or are they just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Were they just trying to make a living only to discover the inescapable pain of death.

Do they have families… what were they fighting for?

Did they have a cause or were they just following orders.

Does even matter what they were doing if it was seen as wrong in the eyes of the world.

The Princesses give mercy… The Death Lords give Justice.

I’m coming for you, Betrayal of Trust

Fillyphile and Deceiver.

You have sown your oats onto a battlefield

And I will defend the innocent for I cannot overlook justice.

* * *

Author's Note

I started writing chapter 26 and I wanted something resembling poetry in it but I decided that it would go better as a very short, stand-a-lone chapter.

All comments are welcome.