Not much of a poem, but I decided to post it anyway. Open to interpretation.
They stand at ready,
Arms poised and firm,
The sign is cast,
Scars of jab, stab, and burn.
What once was lush is turned to mush,
The heart still beating makes one last push,
Today is a busy day for poor Phlegyas.
And in the darkness, she sheds a simple tear,
Within that moment casts out all fear.
Her wounds run deep,
She clutches to her former self with all her strength,
When her grasp is loosed, she can't but stare
As it walks away.
Years go by, the wounds still itch
Others seem to not notice, as if they never exist.
Layers are replaced, the scars are covered up,
She is how she was before Phlegyas' day.
Sometimes in the cold darkness,
You can see the faintest mark of the wounds.
She remembers, and she knows,
They will forget.
Arms poised and firm,
The sign is cast,
Scars of jab, stab, and burn.
What once was lush is turned to mush,
The heart still beating makes one last push,
Today is a busy day for poor Phlegyas.
And in the darkness, she sheds a simple tear,
Within that moment casts out all fear.
Her wounds run deep,
She clutches to her former self with all her strength,
When her grasp is loosed, she can't but stare
As it walks away.
Years go by, the wounds still itch
Others seem to not notice, as if they never exist.
Layers are replaced, the scars are covered up,
She is how she was before Phlegyas' day.
Sometimes in the cold darkness,
You can see the faintest mark of the wounds.
She remembers, and she knows,
They will forget.