Her Reign
When he started to realise I was broken but brave, he said the look in my eyes could send a grown man to his grave. The once young and naive daughter bloomed into the most manic disaster. But in that fire, that dark pit, that pain, she was like iron forming her name, under intense heat she’d shape herself, she wasn’t brittle she wasn’t a dame. She was a queen and this war was her game, she’d take her sword and spell her name, between grit teeth you’d yell the same. Her strength was not how she played the bloody game, it was her heart, her love and how it remained sane. The kind this mad world can only find in some lost land, the kind you’d put in a box and label and frame. She had that love in a world full of pain.