The Maiden Poem by Fritzie Abella

The Maiden



Still she sits in bare calmness
Hatred drowns in hollowness
Spare the sword, the roaring spiel
She dares not touch the cunning flames.

Steal her thunder, still she rises
Penned verses are sunken cries
Cripple her, still she rises
Today she halts to quench her thirst.

She sealed vengeance in dusty grave
From rotten insanity she emerges
This maiden is not yours to wield
She's the master of her fate!

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