Bravery in the Face of Death

World be damned

I had him in the palm of my hand!

I tried too hard

this quill of a bard.

I confessed my love for him

only to be condemned;

society ruled

He pushed and I pulled.

He acts ashamed

but his ladyship is to blame

They look down from on high with accusatory eyes

on peasants they truly despise.

Tattered and battered was how he found me

why’d he stop for me on one bended knee?

Prince Brentborne, did he come searching for a mistress

parading his high land and blood borne crest?

Nay, he said I was different, I had light on the inside

and here I should abide

careful not to let the Sheba’s of his world blot my sun

but I was on the run.

I confessed my love for him in the high court

this mission I should abort but neither am I the sort

to scurry away,

so to this day.

I stand feeling bladed glances and the lash of tongues

How could someone of low rung

dare soil His and Her Majesty’s son’s name?

Had she no brain?

Or give a care for her life?

There she plunged a knife

in the heart of high society, twist and grinded it against the vessel of life

Of their faux system.

Brentborne’s standing on the balcony smiling in approval

as Her Highness screams for my removal

At first it was off with my head

but repugnance was led.

By Her Highness’ son

Oh how he was outdone!

When he found out about the trickery

and as punishment to royalty, he asked to marry me!

Whether they agreed or not

I was one of his lot

Bearing him a son

and now I call my work done!

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