Death of a Princess
The princess stood before her kingdom,
Ice searing through her cold hard veins,
Her body covered in jagged swords,
Protruding from her very being.
Every inch of her body, except the eyes,
Protected by the steel-like cold.
No one dared to enter the Princess’ world,
For fear of pain unyielding.
A crown of tears is what she wears,
Veiled in pain and sorrow -
Longing for a knight to enter her eyes,
And slay the dragons within.
The Princess stood before a man,
One not of royal blood.
In a moment of weakness she allowed him passage,
Perhaps to see what could be done.
The man quickly proved to be apt at slaying dragons,
And eased the pain deep within.
The tears that flowed now rolled to the stones,
The crown now wearing dim.
The Princess guided the man inside,
She allowed him to enter her soul.
He handled it gently and lovingly, yet firm.
He allowed the Princess to feel.
The Princess stood before the world;
The crown now barely seen.
A smile escaped her tender lips,
It was near-death of the future queen.
The tears that had formed the knives of hell,
The one she had worn so proudly,
Now nothing more than a thin flat sheet.
Melting in mortal battle.
The Princess formed of ice was dying,
The masses stood in confusion,
Their ruler had changed her outer garb;
The knives no longer killing.
The woman stood before her lover,
No longer a ruler of man,
The princess that once was a part of this world,
Had died, when her love began.
