20 July 2012

The cry for blood and war rand out, They called for men so strong. I knew my father's leg was weak, To make him fight was wrong.

I cut my hair and trained with sword, I became a boy at heart, I learned to shoot with crossbow bolts, My fighting was my art.

I left a note for father, dear, To tell him of my crime- I took his place, became his son, And so I have him time.

And in this army great and strong, I somehow fell in love; With a man so perfect, so unreal, He was sent from up above.

But he never knew me as a girl, My life as that was lost, And once this war was over- I'd show him... At what cost?

HeatherAnneMulan. • Opuss № I