A Maiden's Smiling Grievance

A maiden grieves on a dark night,

She sinks along into the midnight curtain,

The silver moon nestles close as the sacred night passes quietly,

Atoning for the sins of the blood-soaked children, the moonlight vanishes.

Silently, the maiden creeps out of her residence,

Ventilating, suffocating from the closure of a well-confined but somehow crammed space,

Suffering quietly without allowing the acknowledgement of her kin,

Which had become her flesh and blood, all this while yelping for silent attention.

As always, the hunger individual shrugged her righteousness of living,

Without careful acknowledgement of the timidity of her rebellion,

The man tugged on, refusing to let the string of humanity free,

While the maiden crying silently in the darkest of wee hours, after the happening of this atrocity.

The pitiful maiden, courageously empowered her last trail full of blood,

Crawling to accomplish her final call of duties,

Refused to allow her shrieking inner emotions to overcome her stern judgment,

However, her shell encases her empty soul, guidance to her logic truth.

The man, unbeknownst to the maiden,

Silently endowed every shred of his resentful behavior,

However, lives on within the confinements of the maiden’s tolerance ray of openings,

Accepting the nature that he indeed is sinful to the poor maiden’s torn inner mentality.

Without a doubt, the maiden shoulders the pain of smiling while grieving,

Every day, dragging her soulless carcass until she accepts the invitation of departure,

The day when she’s eventually freed of all this conspiracy,

The end of a new dawn, while it supposedly to be the beginning of a dusk closing by.

Finally, the maiden reaches the pinnacle of struggle,

The invitation of departure, in other context death visited her confinements of tolerance,

She passed on to the afterlife, peaceful but somehow sorrowful grin decorates her dull complexion,

However, mourning is but somewhat grand reception.

The treasure that she entrusted to her kin,

Is not of utmost value as everyone sees it, be endowing its contents,

That man, reaches out to savor his final feast of living security,

Under the blissful leading of the silver moon in which the maiden endeavors,

The man eventually gained as rightful as what his empty soul encases.

Her kin, bestowed with senses of distrust and angst to that man,

Maintaining their rages, propelled by their upbringing of morality,

Tears flowing violently, heads shrugged with regret,

Carries on living, down feelings haunting them forever as the silver moonlight befalls.

<lonewarrior>