Soldier of Plight

The soldier of plight
on a plagued night
rode against

a crescent moon.

 

Pausing to dig her hand
in the steely cold land
gnawing at

her entangled feelings.

 

Frantic, dug deeper the hole
clawing at her tattered soul
dew drops

crawl down in fury.

 

“Silver fiddle in the sky,
Where lies freedom nigh?”
She howled

to eternal silence.

 

Dug deeper into her skin,
clawed onion layers grin
Back from

soot coloured blackness.

 

Shackles of the veil,
glimmer beyond the pale
she fumbles

into the pit she made.

 

Screams, fury and rage,
sounds bellow through the age.
Slowly she

withers deep within.

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