Tel More





The sky,
Fled from the stars,
Deep set blackness,
A shadow of pale wings.

My fear,
Fled when my ears hath ring,
Fleding from the battle cry,
Issued from my lips so pure.

My gown blood stained,
In battle so great,
So hard,
The rattle of coughs of dying men.

The fear of reality decending,
Down upon bravest souls,
Fleeing from a mere woman's strong heart,
Loner on a field of deciet.

Death rattled it's deadly cough,
As the battle raged on,
Metalic sounds,
Everywhere.

Issued from the swords and the crowns,
Many blood red flags were raised,
Half-mast,
Many used to be another color.

But were stained such an unusual hue,
Stained from the fallens blood,
Old men said for many years there after,
That the greatest battle happened at Tel More.