Morning, she said, morning;
She never knew what was to come,
Until it came.
Who was she?
Beguiling and mysterious,
Relentlessly reckless-
Those forgotten eyes,
And mysterious charm.
She had learnt her lesson well,
She put her war paint on-
It didn’t matter;
As the world was a clock,
Ticking down the last seconds of humanity,
Humans thought they had a forever to live in ,
Now they only realized,
That they didn’t have that eternity.
The hysterical euphoria;
She was a believer-
In the myths, which the world-
Had forgotten, amidst the war.
Afternoon, she said, afternoon;
The war had already begun-
But she believed in peace,
And lowered her gun steadily,
But then, she believed in a lot of things;
That didn’t work out for her.
She was magic-
She was humanity.
The battle raged on,
Her wounds just worsened,
He was the preacher, she was the listener;
He said,
I am the sculptor,
And you will be my sculpture.
I am the blacksmith,
And you will be my weapon.
Little did he know,
That she would be humanity’s weapon.
Evening, she said, evening;
She was all ready for combat,
And so she fought,
Fought for humanity’s sake.
The enemy was lethal,
But she was so much more than that.
It was an infinite sea;
Of blood and human tears-
The war raged on;
If her death meant allowing,
Thousands of others to live,
She decided that it was worth it-
Night, she said, night
As she took her last breath-
Lying on the battlefield,
Sculpted by the sculptor.
Waiting patiently,
For the morning that would never come.
