stare
How dost one tell thy truth over thy heart?
When one comith from the love of hell.
Baring your life in a cart.
Who dost is the one to tell?
Fighting for thy love of man.
Not knowing when to lye down thy sword.
Only able to find the love of his hand.
To be thrown across a board.
Thy hands wilt not hold.
Thy eyes wilt not close.
Thy love wilt not grow cold.
Show thy love with puriest of a rose.
Come down from thy bannester.
And thou shall be forgiven.
For thou dost not know her.
And all shall know thy true Raven.
Mia-Niamh Community Member 
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