a little poem, about the day of victory that never came and the aftermath that turned one race into two, seen through the eyes of a bitter young dark elf.
I starved myself for seven days
to see the one that never came
we'd burnt ourselves on fiery games
that with our hope consumed our pain
but what it led to was all tears
it brought us there from hopes of love
a wasteaway, a dreamer's fears
consuming all you think you know
we were the heroes, taught by fire
bending rules in days so old
born by needs in times so dire
we were the heroes, strong, and bold
we lost eachother in those flames
for in the ashes we saw power
for you, death was a word of shame
and we saw you as fragile flowers
and so we lost more than a war
we lost our homes, we lost our mothers
we saw what we'd never seen before;
you never cared when you lost your broters
a hollow where there was a lake,
and darkness where the sun should play
but in our hearts, about to break
we know you'll die, after you pay.