too late
Who is it this time, dear?
Who is it who finally lets you falls to your knees?
I hear the clunk of your armour as it hits the ground,
the thunk of the sword which slips off your hand,
the sword which had pierced so many hearts.
While you stand by, and they bleed, they bleed.
Did you know you caused all this drying blood,
the blood which stains the dying grass a crimson red?
Has someone finally conquered you, made you bleed?
Are you feeling as I had felt,
as you clutch your wound with one hand,
and stretch the other for forgiveness --
yet, you're not sincere.
That kneel down on the stone ground is borne
out of reluctance.
That expression on your face --
spells frustration.
She turns away, her sword in your chest,
tears wettening her eyelashes,
tears falling, drop by drop,
onto the stone floor,
mixing with your blood.
When will you ever learn?
too late, too late.
Who is it who finally lets you falls to your knees?
I hear the clunk of your armour as it hits the ground,
the thunk of the sword which slips off your hand,
the sword which had pierced so many hearts.
While you stand by, and they bleed, they bleed.
Did you know you caused all this drying blood,
the blood which stains the dying grass a crimson red?
Has someone finally conquered you, made you bleed?
Are you feeling as I had felt,
as you clutch your wound with one hand,
and stretch the other for forgiveness --
yet, you're not sincere.
That kneel down on the stone ground is borne
out of reluctance.
That expression on your face --
spells frustration.
She turns away, her sword in your chest,
tears wettening her eyelashes,
tears falling, drop by drop,
onto the stone floor,
mixing with your blood.
When will you ever learn?
too late, too late.