Lauren Vicente, Medieval Poem

And thine brok’n arms

And thine brok’n chest

Thine broken face – don’t frown

Thine wither’d hands and red soaked hair

Thine stolen breath and tired eyes

Was it worth it?

Thine innocence forgotten

Thine purity ruin’d

Was it worth it?

Red and crimson

Like the rose

On a crisp Summer’s morn

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