Icy winter wind,
At the quiet moonless night.
Swords clashing can be heard,
A group fighting all their might.
The howls of wolves rang,
Signaling the end of the fight.
The group cheered for their win,
Not noticing the disappearing light.
And then again,
A child was running away with a
Broken Soul,
That only a pure heart
can fix.
- Asteria
YOU ARE READING
Memento Mori || Poetry
Poetry[ remember death ] Previously titled Buried in the Ashes.
