.Marmalade.

My Marmalade.

 

 

 

Her blonde hair blows behind her

as she stands above the battlefield.

Barely touching the ground.

For she is supernatural.

Infinite.

Youthful, Eternal beauty hold her

above the war.

Blood and gore don't touch her

white, lace gown.

A leather belt glistening with gold

and

gems of Earth's finest natural.

Holding her finest weapon.

A sword made from imaginations hands.

And she of all,

granted the access to such power.

She is Legend.

Her blue eyes scan the atmosphere

before her.

Misery and chains surround her.

Like a song bird in a locked caged.

The key long lost in the war.

Yet there she stands.

Pure.

With alabaster skin.

Her delicate hands rearrange the picture of

gore before her.

She paints willows and soft breezes.

Wifts filled with perfume and

cotton candy skies.

She is love.

My Marmalade.

Always a delicate doll.

Always a Legend.

Always the light.

 

 

 

.Alyss.