Once upon a time, in a faraway land,
A castle was built from the tears of a woman.
Commoners were always curious of the castle,
Drawn to the mystery and the solving of a puzzle.
They peered inside, wondering what riches were hidden,
And tried to scale the walls, though it was forbidden.
Maybe a monster lurked in its dark recesses,
Or perhaps in an ivory tower lived a princess,
With blue blood and a golden spoon in her mouth.
Knights and princes traveled from north and south,
Unaware how impregnable these fortresses,
They would vie for her hand without much success.
But the story told us that a witch with an iron mask,
Puts trap and obstacles with the use of spells she cast.
Wary of hunters, thieves, and commoners,
She fortified the walls against the invasion of foreigners.
Yet, once in a while the sorceress will lower the drawbridge,
To goblins and elves she connected like kindred spirits.
Underneath her cloak, she continued to build Great Halls,
Sending out invitations to host feasts and grand balls.
Unlike the enchantress Circe, she instead poisons herself,
And builds another moat or a tower, everytime someone leaves.
With its ramparts and battlements, the castle is an ironclad structure.
But under the knowing gaze of the sun, there are cracks and fractures.
Centuries the stronghold castle stood with might,
The keep is damp and bleak without any light.
It is another end of an era, another end of age,
She had to put down the banners, lock herself in a cage.
The castle had been her dungeon for a long time,
All she wished for was a love that would last a lifetime.
Copyright ©️ Fayederis
07-21-2024
